Perfection? Poem by Paula Glynn

I sit and read a magazine,
Asking 'Is this perfection? '
Is it this tall, slim lady?
Or can I find something else more perfect?
Because I should be the judge of me,
And decide what I need and want for myself,
Not let others decide my fate,
Because a fool is indeed quickly parted with his money,
And I think, do I really need these anti-aging creams?
Do I really want a fashion model's dream?
I don't think so,
Because I just know I live this life for me,
And not just to fulfil a glamorous dream,
I know I am smart and gorgeous, just as I am,
And when it comes to other people,
I do give a damn, most definitely,
I really don't need your drugs and boozy parties,
Because I choose to be healthy and happy,
Waking with the sun every morning,
And drinking a cup of soothing tea,
And I don't need your fake friendship:
You mean nothing to me,
And over what if's, I don't cry,
Because your definitions of what I am,
Mean nothing and have no relevance,
And I'll be the judge of myself,
And I shall enjoy my own personal world,
Without a shred of regret,
For this is a world I call perfection.