Some things are so innately bad
They prove the modern world is mad.
Consider what some people do
Who think their features are askew.
They have their nose and eyes and cheeks
Restructured. These impulsive geeks
Will even shell out lots of dough
To be re-made from head to toe.
They think that these cosmetic shifts
Will help exchange the paltry gifts
That God screwed up on at their birth.
Their skin, their stature, and their girth
Can be returned for something better,
Like bringing back a too-large sweater
To Bloomingdale's, and getting credit.
I can't recall the jerk who said it
But here's the quote: "Remake yourself!
Put your old looks on the shelf!
The plastic surgeons have the cure
To make your self-esteem secure!
Your straightened noses and tight necks
Will guarantee you better sex!"
I knew a broad whose lustful urgin'
Drove her to a plastic surgeon.
She paid for total transformation:
A brand-new flesh-and-bone creation
To turn her into someone who
Her friends and family never knew.
A metamorphosis occurred
As horrid as it was absurd.
Listen to what this stupid dame
Did to her poor mortal frame:
The doctors gave her nose a trim
To make it aquiline and slim.
They built her cheekbones up with plastic
To make her features less elastic.
They stuffed her breasts with bags of sand.
The derriere that God had planned
For her to have, they thought too fat.
They gave her liposuction that
Reduced its rotund, ample curve
And left it barely fit to serve
For sitting down, much less for catching
Male attention. Careful patching
Was done on all her moles and freckles.
The smallest of unsightly speckles
Was lasered off her sculpted face.
They put her spine into a brace
To help improve her gait and stance.
They stitched her eyelids to enhance
That creepy kind of feline stare
That drugged-out starlets seem to wear.
Her lips were pumped with collagen
To make them fuller than they'd been,
And ribs on either side excised
To leave her waistband smaller-sized.
They colored and restyled her hair.
They bleached her skin to make it fair.
Her depilated arms and legs
Were hairless as some new-laid eggs.
They nipped and tucked each fold of skin
To render her more taut and thin.
She hemorrhaged money without stop
To pay for this damned body-chop.
When all was done, the chick had spent
Very nearly her last cent.
And the result of such extortion?
She looked like an obscene abortion,
A monstrously androidal doll
No Tom, Dick, Harry, Bill, or Sol
Or any man would dream of dating.
To glance at her gave one a grating
Horror-reflex that appalled
Like photos out of Buchenwald.
The natural lines and just proportion
That were this girl's God-given portion
Had been transformed to something sick
And phony as a con-man's brick.
Weep for this poor brainless maiden
Who goes through life forever laden
With looks ruined by a surgeon's lancet!
And yet the women who will chance it
Increase in number every year.
I warn you, ladies, go in fear
Of plastic surgeons and their knives--
They've butchered countless female lives.
They say they'll give you sex appeal
But in fact they'll only steal
Your money and leave you a mess
And you'll be stuck, without redress,
For once you're mangled by these crooks
You can't get back your former looks.
There is no magic to restore
Your quondam beauty, and what's more,
Instead of looking svelte and fine
You'll be the Bride of Frankenstein.