If I could add up all the time
I've spent sobbing in fitting rooms
and sell it, a minute for a time,
I could buy a trip to the moon.
And why, you ask? I only wish
I knew. Why do I spend precious hours
desperately attempting to fish
out fashion from racks of dresses and towers
of t-shirts? I'm left with nothing
but tear-stained cheeks and clothes too tight
to breathe in – so I spent each night
worrying about what to wear in the morning.
If only everyone could see
the same girl, with or without pearls
or ball gowns, I could be
ten times the person – and this,
ten times the world.