I open the glossy magazine
and see the face of perfection.
No wrinkles, spots or blotches,
just a glowing, flawless complexion.
The ad says the patents are pending,
and the self-tests are conclusive.
This cream really is the bee’s knees,
very soon my creases shall be elusive.
I go to the store and fork out fifty bucks
for the promise of eternal youth in a tube.
It’s a bargain when you think about it,
and this time, I’m sure, I won’t get duped.
They are not making false claims,
or messing with my mind.
Oh no, beauty is within my reach,
and it’s exactly what I’ll find.
The traces of age and the motherhood marks
will be all at once erased.
Gone are the signs of broken nights,
the bags, the spots, the waste.
I drive home in excitement
and start lathering with glee.
The cream indulges my skin and whispers,
“You’ll soon look like you’re twenty-three…”
Four weeks later I look in the mirror
and it’s the same old face I see.
I stick out my tongue and realize
the joke is once again on me.
© Maggie Elizabeth, 2013