'Perfect'

I know I am not 'perfect',
But what does 'perfect' mean?
All those glossy magazines,
So squeaky, 'perfect', clean.

All those runway models,
With their tiny, tiny waists,
Spreads of tweed and nylon sweats,
Clothes; so many tastes.

All those muscled businessmen,
White shirts, black slacks and shoes,
A holiday aboard a boat;
A 'perfect', flawless cruise.

Then there's the endless lipstick,
The makeup, products, wipes,
Applied with dainty, 'perfect' dabs,
And 'perfect', prudish swipes.

Skin so smooth it's waxy,
Injections: every place!
When does MY reality,
Have time to show its face?