Sipping decaf skinny latte,

I cringe as I see you enter
My special coffee-shop,
New girlfriend giggling inanely on your arm.
Little Miss Hipster Fashionista,
Still wearing her ditsy woolly hat,
Though it’s 25 in the shade
On this sunny summer afternoon.

Crop top showing just too much of
Gym-honed tummy,
And just-the-right-tone tan.
Ripped short-short-shorts
Showing off electro-epilated thigh-gapped legs,
Tottering unsteadily on chunky heels
Like she’s got a massive butt-plug
Stuck right up her skinny arse.

There she goes,
Casually raising one arm to stroke her
Artfully tousled £250 hairdo,
Revealing perfectly-waxed underarms,
Not even a trace of afternoon stubble
Or razor-rubbed redness.

I crush the individually-wrapped
Fat-free taste-free biscuit
In my clenched fist,
Detonating the wrapper
And blasting a fusillade of biscuit-based shrapnel
Across the tablecloth.

My pound to your penny
She’s got a full Hollywood down below;
Pubic mound porno-smooth as a
Baby’s bum on Botox,
And about as sexy.

Bet those boobs aren’t all her own.
Pumped and plumped with silicone sacs,
An 18th birthday present from darling Daddy.
Hope they’re PIPs;
Hope they pop.

What’s wrong with my 32b boobs?
They may be small,
But I’ve had no complaints,
And they get plenty of attention
Under a skinny-fit top with no bra,
Tight cotton contouring
Every dimple of perky nipples.

I keep my pussy trimmed;
Not bare, but neat and clean,
And looking like a real woman.
I know my bum’s not bad.
And you know what?
These days, “not bad” is good enough for me.

So fuck my finger, hipster honey
Shove this decaf skinny latte
Up your bleached bum hole.
Hey there, barista baby,
Pour me a tall full-fat Mocha
And don’t hold on the whipped cream
If you value your life.
And slip me a double-chocolate
Muffin on the side.

Mind you, he’s pretty hot,
(Appraising his cute bum
When he’s frothing the milk).
Maybe I’ll skip the whipped cream after all.