Vivacious, Curvaceous and Delightfully Unfashionable

In the 1600’s or there about
the ideal woman was full and curvy,
I hear you say, “full of chub and grout”
But no, ’twas the fashion to be round, but now the females, they’re tipsy turvy.


The fashion, it states all are to be slim
and pretty and dainty and clean (or at least keep the white powder on the down low),
The fashionistas, state all are to be taut, forever young and prim -
Ahh… tis here we hit the crack pot and see ‘tis like a salmon and hard to follow the flow.


The elite world of fashion was once just that, a special club
that invited none and certainly did not cater for those not sporting celebrity blood.
But now the days have changed and all strive for that special club look
the one that is worked, perfection and threatens all who pine for the fashion book.


This era is one where we search for all things greener, better, leaner -
but let us not mention grass as this stopped being hygienic and ‘cool’
And turned into a dirty reminder of all things French or German…good heavens society just got meaner…!
Alas, we speak of laser depilation as one step into perfecting the imperfection that is the future life-pool.


By god I believe we’d all relish being smooth, sleek machines!
No more hair between
the brows (you dirty lot, I know what you’re thinking – though that as well is no longer hot),
‘tis wanted and needed a pleaded to have all things unattractive not seen.


We must ask the question though,
and this, it reminds me of the subject I did fail –
Of who draws the line at attractive and not, who decides when to stop and go?
Have we not turned into fashion’s sheep and follow mindlessly till the day it works not and all we can do is wail?


How did a fashion show turn into a human show?
How did loving your clothes and Chanel turn into having to nip and tuck and stretch and fetch?
How did predicting the trends turn into the infamous need for a trout pout and caring if They got too low?
Cosmetic surgery has turned into our greener grass, our holy water to right all wrongs and be our rose tinted sketch.


As a young bean I was all for lipo
Figured it would solve a lump or bump or six,
Digital TV being a blessing in disguise showed me how a vacuum cleaner in ones thigh actually verges on the psycho!
Nothing ought to be plunged in and out of one’s fat, never mind ones leg – even if it does mean a quick fix!


Though I preach from a wrinkle free stool,
I’d say the same to all pulling their eyebrows up an inch, right a bit, left a lot
Botox yes, staple some more – ahh my dears they are the secret tool.
I’d rather shine for my personality than because some hair got caught in the latest stapled knot.


Alas we always seek another to blame and for this we have the industry,
Not the red light district one, but the other reigning our very lives.
We have succumbed to the pressure and cannot see what life would be
without the fix of surgery.
We must relearn to love our wrinkles, laughter lines and saggy vibes.


Though, and I tell you in all confidence,
There was a case of a woman whose eyelid muscles gave way
leaving loss of control on shutter up, shutter down.
Thus in this occasion, though I did giggle, one cannot help but admire the surgeons who with some dental floss quickly fixed the drooping lid and saved the day!


Suffice to say my dear lot,
That fashion and surgery rule enough
For them to also influence in self love,
Do not seek out the trout pout, vacuum cleaner making leaner machine
Or the nipple raiser – which is actually just a visual effect –
Leave the pain for jollier things such as giving birth – which by the by I’m not doing due to a horrifying story – I think I’d rather join a sect!


Let’s concentrate on loving the fashion world which errs on the unstable
at a distance fit for reveling in and enjoying our crow’s feet.
And let all surgical fixes remain just a fable
as we all breathe in, go back to the top and repeat...