Mirror mirror on the wall,
though my clothes are way too small,
mask my cellulite and fat profusion,
through the magic of Optical Delusion(I’d like to make it clear that I personally don’t care whether someone is overweight or underweight. As long as they’re a decent human being and are happy in themselves, then all is right with my world. Yeah, I’d have been a good hippie – if I’d been born a decade earlier)
I find some of the fashion choices made by some of today’s rotund young ladies perplexing. Those I see out on the town, often wear clothes that are not befitting their physical dimensions – i.e. at least 5 sizes too small. Perhaps this is because they can’t find the clothes in their size and think:
“What the heck, I’ll just squeeze my enormous frame into this flimsy garment, slap on a bit of lippy and I’ll look just like Angelina Jolie. And for an extra touch of class, I’ll also make sure my ever so tasteful tattoos (spangly stars, crying butterfly, big mac & fries, etc) are all visible – even the one delicately placed just above my buttocks.”
I’ve often wondered if they’ve bothered to check their appearance in a mirror before leaving the house. Or perhaps they’ve bought a second-hand mirror from a traveling fairground’s hall-of-mirrors, for it’s body image changing qualities. It’s thoughts like this that lead me to write the above poem.
Today, I had an idea that I might like to dabble with some performance poetry, so, I drafted some additional verses for Mirror, Mirror and intend to write some music to accompany its delivery. If I like how it turns out, I may record it and share it here with you. Then again, perhaps I’ll decide the world just isn’t ready for that yet 😉