Everyday I shave these legs,
Legs so long and slim,
Or, at least, I wish they were,
But my legs are strong and muscley,
And all mine.
I love walking down the street in my heels,
And wearing either a denim mini skirt,
Or black leather trousers that are so damn cool,
For I am a fashionista through and through.
And I just love looking good enough to eat,
And I paint my face at night,
Just to look right,
For those bars, pubs and clubs,
Where I drink wine and dance the night away,
And show off my colourful, manicured nails,
Always up-to-trend in colour,
So cool am I, but I don't always end the night,
With a man: I am worth more than that.
I shave my legs and make the effort,
For myself, I am not some fashion puppet:
I am fully aware of where I'm coming from,
I don't diet, I just eat sensibly,
But I don't insult those who do,
I have more respect than that,
This person not to become greedy and fat,
Shaving bulky legs that deter men,
No: I care too much to eat that much,
And yes: I like being in proportion,
But not always eating salad,
No matter the pressure I face.
It's tough for us girls and women,
But we can have our slice of cake,
And still shave our legs,
Without worrying about looking hideous.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yeh, I guess I have the same trouble with my face every day! Mind you I've had to knock the mini-skirts in the head!