She refused to remain the underdog, tethered to her stanchion.
She’d trade her present hovel for a stately mansion.
She’d update all her fashions and tone her waist and thighs,
exercise with vigor to decrease her zaftig size.
She’d become more vivacious, more up on all the news.
She’d practice stealth and cunning in interpreting the clues
of what it took to rise up in the elite scene,
responsive to what it might take to be a social queen.
But alas, it never happened, for to her great sorrow,
she kept putting self-improvement off until tomorrow.