The mirror, it flashes
and giggles with glee.

There are lumps and bumps
Where there shouldn’t be.

I can explain them away,
I can shut my brown eyes
But the bulges won’t quit
And the mirror doesn't lie.

I’m a jelly person in jeans
And a chubby girl in pumps
Size zeros in magazines
Me, down in the dumps.

Topshop’s too small
The size twelve never fits
Expanse of cotton clad bum
And lace covered tits.

The green curtain twitches
And I turn in a panic
Laughter from beyond,
High-pitched and manic.

Can they see me, I wonder?
Is my shame in full view?
Can they see I’m a size twelve,
When I should be a size two?

Is it the bleach-blonde assistant
With her look of disdain
Coming in to serve me,
“A size larger, again?”

A leather bound stool,
I sit with a sigh.
Sizes are so low
And prices are so high,

Fashion says skinny,
And boys say Not Fat,
It would so easy
If it were simple as that.

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