by Butternose
The prettiest girl in the room,
I am certainly not.
Five-feet, seven inches,
Weighing more than a lot.
Though my boobs are big,
And they get all the stares,
They're nothing but fat,
And I'd lose em' if I just took the stairs.
My butt is silky smooth and pleasantly plump,
Just like J-Lo's,
As long as it's squeezed into queen-sized, control top pantyhose.
My arms are too manly for any sleeveless shirt,
And my thighs are too lumpy,
So forget the mini-skirt.
My feet are so dry,
And my toes are too long.
Only sneakers for me please,
No open-toed stilettos or cutsie summer thongs.
My hands are not feminine,
Not one insie bit.
My nails are all brittle,
And my fingers are short, knuckly and thick.
To top it all off, my hair is somewhere in between,
What it was fifty dollars ago,
And the two-inch dark roots that are easily seen.
I never wear make-up,
All natural gal here.
Besides,
My rosacea would shine through any foundation I smeared.
The prettiest girl in the room,
I am certainly not.
But I have personality for miles,
Which, I've been told, counts for more than a lot.
