You Be Admired; I'll Just Be Tired

Tonight I collected the trash I’d neglected
And picked up the crayons and blocks
And ironed some sweaters and answered some letters
And scrubbed out a sinkful of socks.
I stifled a yawn as I watered the lawn,
So after the puppies were fed
I sewed a few patches and pants buttons on
And dropped like a stone into bed.

Past caring or choosing, I started perusing
A magazine bulging with hints.
I whisked in a trice through the varied advice
On chastity, childbirth, and chintz.
I skirted the skirts and the yummy desserts,
And though I was equally snooty
Toward how to pick houses and blouses and spouses,
I stopped like a coward at Beauty.

I peered in a mirror I should have held nearer
And noticed my features were gaunt.
They weren’t Truly Grecian or Proudly Patrician,
Poetic, Urbane, or Piquante.
I hadn’t Been Fair to my mouth and my hair.
My brows were all over the place;
And really my face wasn’t Oval or Square But kind of a nondescript face.

My Latent Allure, I was suddenly sure,
Was something I’d taken too lightly.
My eyes didn’t glow, and I’d Let Myself Go,
Till honestly I was unsightly.
My muscles weren’t toned, and I quietly moaned
To learn of the Work To Be Done
Like leaping from bed (as the article said)
For Pillowtime Push-Ups and Fun.

I glanced at The Scheme for a Skin-Waking Cream,
But, since it led onward to Makeup,
My skin (I decided) got weary like I did,
So why should I force it to wake up?
Let journals make free with The Girl I Should Be
And chat of How Happiness Hovers;
Whoever’s in search of the Real Hidden Me
Can look for me under the covers