Laundry Day

My hair is too frizzy,

A red tangled mess.

My eyebrows aren’t arched,

Blonde makes it look less.

My pants don’t quite fit,

The muffin top pokes over.

I look down at the scale,

I nearly fall over.

My glasses are smudged

From my kid’s sticky fingers.

I try to clean up,

But the residue lingers.

My hair gets tied back

As my green eyes glow.

I lotion my cheeks

So my freckles show.

Yoga pants it is,

With my tank top and sweater.

An outfit that’s good

For any sort of weather!

I have myself to flatter,

So what does it matter?

It’s a vodka kind of day.

I’m only doing laundry anyway.