The pressure to be perfect washes through the media and advertisements
like a botoxed wave
and everyone clucks and tuts and says how horrid she looks terrible….
then they go and spend the national debt in wrinkle creams and pretty shrink wrapped jars marked “miracle”
and trail around after the nippers and tuckers like rock star groupies
The pressure to be perfect grows like black mold in the schools and in the workplace where the only way to get ahead is to treat
yourself like a faulty boiler, let the steam build and just pray there is not too much damage when it finally blows…
feverishly you keep tilting at windmills and singing the impossible dream song
all the way down
until you slam face first
landing hard on the claw scrabbled floor
under the pedestal where the discards lay.