Do not subscribe to that mendacious whim
Attesting beauty cannot be too fried,
Or coerce God to paint your creamy skin
And sculptured form He’s already supplied.
Don’t be drawn by film and magazines
Portraying sunscarred women as ideal.
Let those toothpicks burn to become seen;
Your earthly glow is much more scarce and real.
Even were you able to contract
More beauty with your cooking and concealing,
I’d have concern that all would not protract
Between the cancer risk and sickly peeling.
      For I don’t wish to see you once well done,
      But forever fair and gleaming like the sun.