She felt her thighs quiver
Pushing her finger against her stomach an “Oh hoo hoo” escaped before she could stop it.
The Pillsbury Doughboy always had the last word.
And though she’d love to spend every last cent on fashion
She paused.
The quagmire was this:
Glossy images or better health? Shoes or self-realization?
Biting her nails, feeling her heart skitter like Chie Mihara heels against a hardwood floor,
She made her decision and closed the laptop.
Was it thunder she heard in the background or perhaps, just maybe,
Her integrity?
…
(Thanks to OSI for the writing prompt, quagmire.)
(photo by SashaW)
The Little Writer That Could 