A poem I ran across, author unkown.
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Do you have to tell it all?
Where do you get the glaring right
To make my clothes look just too tight?
I think I'm fine but I can see
you won't co-operate with me.
The way you let the shadows play,
You'd think my hair was getting grey.
What's that, you say?
A double chin?
No, that's the way the light comes in.
If you persist in peering so,
You'll confiscate my facial glow,
And then if you're not hanging straight,
You'll tell me next I'm gaining weight.
I'm really quite upset with you,
For giving this distorted view.
I hate you being smug and wise...
O, look what's happened to my thighs!
I warn you now, O mirrored wall,
Since we're not on speaking terms at all,
If I look like this in my new jeans,
You'll find yourself in smithereens!!
