She's in disgrace. Her fortune, in men's eyes,
lies in her lovely form and perfect face:
so pleasing they appear, but they're just lies --
through surgery all true features were replaced.
Who's more a fool? The woman who believes
her native shape and smile are not fantastic,
and proceeds to change them all till she achieves
some false ideal whose aspect's wholly plastic?
Or those who, though they have no claim to handsome,
seek out perfection, then shout disappointment
when they realize the woman's paid a ransom
for scars that she must nightly smear with ointment?
When will we learn to love the looks we're given,
set vanity aside and savor living?
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