Monkeys make bad stylists.

April 13, 2011 in Fashion, Self-Health, Style by alliemcc

This prose poem composed itself for you one night while I couldn't sleep. Which may explain a lot.


When you get out of the shower in the morning

and the bitchy, sociopathic monkeys in your brain

start giving you their unsolicited opinion–

"Your thighs are lumpy. Your arms are jiggly.

What are you doing with your hair?! You can't wear that."–

just give them a banana and tell them to sit in the corner.


They will quiet right down and enjoy their bananas.

They'll relax, maybe do some fingerpainting,

compose sign-language poetry.

Some of them will take a nap.

You can roll your eyes at this silliness,

finish getting dressed, wear whatever you want.

You don't need a signed note from your monkey–

"Jane has my permission to look beautiful in this dress today.

Please call me at home if you have any questions…"

You are a big girl, and you can handle this.

You will go about your day, and gorgeously kick ass.


Unfortunately, the monkeys will go about their day too.

Lots of bad sign language poetry will be recited,

perhaps a performance of a play in which poo is flung.

During dinner someone will suggest they go to a gallery opening.

At the gallery, they hang out with their eccentric monkey friends

and smoke too much, and drink far too much wine.

In fact, they keep drinking well after the opening

and eventually pass out far past midnight.


They wake up the next morning

around the time you're getting out of the shower again.

Some of them are still drunk, and they're mean.

Some of them are just very hungover

and they're mad about the law preventing monkeys from operating motor vehicles

because they would basically die for some greasy eggs and vegetarian sausage at the 24-hour diner.

Instead, they start making vicious comments about your personal appearance

and your choice of outfit for the day

(which is going to look awesome, by the way).

You roll your eyes.

You give them a banana.


This goes on and on

until the monkeys finally admit their vices.

They will enroll in A.A.

and they will compose a beautiful poetic apology to you in sign language.

They will also move out and get a real job

and send you a money order to reimburse you for the bananas.