THE SNARK IN THE MIRROR
Photo by Jana Shnipelson at Unsplash
I am beginning to find it
Hard to ignore
The insults
Being hurled at me
By the rude, impatient person
In the mirror
Who should know better
Than to pass ridiculous, cruel judgment on
This new plethora of full-body pudge-pudding rolls,
All ailments and brilliant new medications considered.
I should rebuke her insensitive remarks
About my trunk now overflowing with junk,
Send her to the corner to mull over
The amount of crap I’ve endured.
I should tell her that the hissy fit she pulled tonight
Over a series of unexpected and somewhat upsetting wardrobe malfunctions
Was beyond unacceptable,
And that from now on she can bloody well
Zip it.
But of course, I know damn well she’ll just smirk and say,
“Well, I would if I could, but everything’s too tight.”
She’s awful, you know. She really is.
