Lipstick

Grey mornings,

Damp windows,

A cold house full of sleeping people.

Your face is tired, full of lines and folds,

It’s not a face made for growing old.

All the serums and creams cannot turn back Time,

Feminism tells you, ageing’s not a crime.

Theoretically that’s true,

Practically such shit:

If you walked around naked, you’d look a right tit.

Those tits once so firm facing up to the sky,

Now sagging and drooping, on your stomach they lie.

Your Grandson once asked what superpower you’d need

To be the best super-Nan this side of the Dee?

You’d looked at his face, all shining and new

And told him you’d a cloak made, just for you.

It made you Invisible,

Each day a bit more,

Even those who loved you

 Sometimes forgot, when you walked through the door.

If you walked around naked, maybe then they would stare?

Maybe then the invisibility cloak would vanish into air?

He thought this was silly and giggled and laughed,

Nana naked in Scotland? That was just daft!

Today you’ve decided, you’re done playing nice,

The Invisible Granny, all sugar and spice.

You’ve bought this red lipstick – it’s called Joli Rouge,

You figure at 60 you’ve nothing to lose.

The red is so vibrant, so glossy and fun,

You’re smiling already and the day’s just begun.

In your worn dressing gown, pyjamas and socks,

You tell your reflection: you’re a gorgeous old fox!

You sit at the table and sip your hot tea,

Lips red and glowing, you’re giddily free.

You give zero fucks about the time of the day,

You’re a phenomenal woman and that’s here to stay.