Curse you Department store dressing room.

Your bad lights – and mirrors of doom.

My reflection tries to mock me- “You’re looking pretty bad.

Look at those dimples and that behind of flab.”

I look a little closer and I see what she means.

I am dimply, and flabby, and 2 tushes can be seen.

Then I look at my face and it stares back at me.

There are lines and creases where smoothness used to be.

“I need a new face cream”..I whisper to myself.

“Something expensive, a miracle, and not off the shelf.”

Then I look at my hair and see limp strands- a disgrace.

“Maybe I need a new shampoo, or hairspray, or Mace.”

Wounded and low I try on each piece.

First a pair of jeans, then a shirt, then a fleece.

I close my eyes until the clothes are all on,

I step back a step and open my peeps to see what I don.

And lo and behold I don’t look too bad.

I’m not perfect- but clothes hide the flab.

Take that dressing room- you don’t win today.

I am taking these clothes and Oh by the way…

I am proud of the woman I am – it may have taken years

But I love who I am- flab and wrinkles, double butt and big ears.

I have walked a long road to get where I am.

You can try to cut me- but I don’t give a damn!

With every wrinkle and dimple there is a story to tell-

I look back in that mirror – hug myself, and say, “I think I am swell.”