Idiosyncrasy, who needs it?!

**A modern/sarcastic response to Deborah Garison’s “A working girl can’t win”**

Remember, dear child, you always have a choice;
You’re young and beautiful, rejoice!
Dream away the beautiful thoughts
others have made you sought.

Are you to be smart? Who cares? (I hope!)
But then again you might be dope.
And who could I be?
To tell you, please!
That you shan’t for a living a man appease!

A doctor? A feminist? What for a living will you choose?
Oh my, how horrible is your taste in shoes!
Perhaps that’s the reason I demise,
A breast tumor you will have!

Oh my no, that won’t do…
You’re anorexic, bolemic, and a bitch too.
You will grow gray and fat,
and wear a horrible hat
to match those horrible shoes!

So you’re Mexican, Puerto Rican, Asian, Vietnamese?
Or are you just a mix of breeds?
Either way I don’t care,
your attitude scares, and for that we will give you lesser wage…

And your husband works less,
but gets all the sex.
And you stay up ’till late
to work and mate!

Am I getting ahead of myself?
Oh no! Oh my! Did Auntie’s selfless chatter
your future shatter?

I’ll be here every Christmas
to mess with your idiosyncrasy.
I’ll make my useless thoughts
breech my mind’s privacy.
I’ll contribute to your less enjoyment
as if it were my annual appointment;
Because watching those Disney Princesses
isn’t going to bring you forgiveness
when after making love to that one boy,
(who used you like a toy)
you told your mother, that morning at breakfast,
the unwanted news that you were pregnant!

Contributor: Andrea Arias

Copyright © 2012 Andrea Arias. All Rights Reserved.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s