Friday, 8 February 2013

On becoming decrepit

We all reach that stage where one suddenly finds
That thighs fall to knees, just like Austrian blinds.
This is bound to occur, be you chunky or thin:
Yes, with age something horrible happens to skin.

It withers, it crinkles, it droops and it sags.
Your brows are now matched by huge under-eye bags.
And liver spots form on the back of a hand,
(Never mind, they'll join up, then you'll look nicely tanned).

If my face were a wall, then I'd reach for a tub...
Apply some white filler and give it a rub.
But this just doesn't work, which is really bad luck:
The only solution's a surgical tuck.

Once, when you were little, the tooth fairy came,
Swapped lost teeth for sixpence, a luctrative game.
But now you are older, she's not going to visit
And search 'neath your pillow, which isn't fair, is it?

You can colour your hair - that is one sure fire winner -
But grey's not the problem: your thatch is much thinner.

You discover your vision is not what it was.
Your arms should be longer. You know this because
To read from a distance is what you prefer:
Any closer, the letters are simply a blur.

Feet used to be things you could choose to adorn.
Fancy shoes with high heels would be happily worn.
You could wear them for hours, be they flimsy or strappy.
Now a flat pair that's comfy is what makes you happy.

Your clothes aren't now chosen because of their charms,
But whether they've sleeves,which will hide flabby arms.
In warm weather, you're covered (although you might swelter),
As your chest now resembles some long dried-up delta.

Like a turkey's, your neck flaps with skin that is loose:
All those "toners" and "firmers" are not that much use.
It doesn't seem right, if you know what I mean,
To look eighty, but know that you're really eighteen.

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