When I wake up the oil on my face could cook your breakfast
The stench of my breath could wake the dead
The knots in my hair
the crust in my eye
would make a grown man even want to cry

So with cold cream and washcloth in one hand
toothbrust and comb in the other
I make my way to the bathroom no intentions to leave until ready

No oil, no stench
no knots, no crust.............better
but not enough

seven outfits now rest on my floor
crying 'I look fat!' 'I've nothing to wear!'
I slap on the first ensamble
Consealor then powder
blush, two shades to intensify developing cheackbones
eye makeup - shadow, liner, mascara
use the torcherouse mechanism - the eyelash curler
brust out the clumps
lipstic, blot, lipstick, lipgloss

done, without a minute to spare
I have been transformed from a Beaste to a Belle
just to have to start again tomorrow

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