Symptoms Poem by Edwina Reizer

How many symptoms can I count upon
to affect my conscious being?
I have so many that just appear
and seeing is believing.
Unwanted marks that are called beauty
are blemishes on my skin.
There's nothing beautiful about them
but it's the skin I am in.
Hips too wide, waist too small,
bosom ample enough.
Clothing hard to fit just right
and if that's not the stuff
that makes these symptoms, everyone
the bane of my existence,
then surely I can say that I know
they're just a minor hindrance.
For symptoms come and stay a while
and you get used to them.
But I always wonder which will be next
and will it cause a problem?