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You could spend every day

in absolute devotion,

running lifting sweating

downward-facing-dogging

shaving plucking waxing

ironing polishing buffing,

and you would certainly be lovely.

But the agencies are hiring great danes.

And you, my dear, are a corgi.

Adorable. Spirited. With a charm all your own.

And too short for commercial use.

You could become

a photoshopped spectre of yourself.

But this season, they want greyhounds.

You, my dear, are the most striking samoyed

that I have ever seen.

But they say fluffy coats are not in this year.

And you, my dear,

are the most elegant dalmatian.

But right now it seems they only want the spotless ones.

It’s not that all the

spinning squatting lunging

steaming juicing fasting

bleaching peeling glossing

was all for naught.

You are surely lovely.

I just wish you could see

that you are already so perfectly you.

 

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