Christmas poem for other 'old' girls

Yesterday I received some Christmas Cheer in the form of a poem sent along by an old friend. 

Although it is off topic for this blog I thought that the sentiments expressed in the poem would resonate with many of my readers who I suspect, like me, have a few miles on the clock.  

Thanks, Carolyn, for the poem.

Merry Christmas To You.

If I were ol' Santa, you know what I'd do
I'd dump silly gifts that are given to you
And deliver some things just inside your front door
Things you have lost, but treasured before.

I'd give you back all your maidenly vigor,
And to go along with it, a neat tiny figure.
Then restore the old colour that once graced your hair
Before rinses and bleaches took residence there.

I'd bring back the shape with which you were gifted
So things now suspended need not be uplifted.
I'd draw in your tummy and smooth down your back
Till you'd be a dream in those tight fitting slacks.

I'd remove all your wrinkles and leave only one chin
So you wouldn't spend hours rubbing grease on your skin.
You'd never have flashes or queer dizzy spells,
And you wouldn't hear noises like ringing of bells.

No sore aching feet and no corns on your toes,
No searching for spectacles when they're right on your nose.
Not a shot would you take in your arm, hip or tummy,
From a doctor who thinks you're a nervous old granny.

You'd never have a headache, so no pills would you take.
And no heating pad needed since your muscles won't ache.
Yes, if I were Santa, you'd never look stupid,
You'd be a cute little chick with the romance of Cupid.

I'd give a lift to your heart when those wolves start to whistle,
And the joys of your heart would be light as a thistle.
But alas! I'm not Santa. I'm just simply me,
The matronliest of matrons you ever did see.

I wish I could tell you all the symptoms I've got,
But I'm due at my doctor's for an oestrogen shot.
Even though we've grown older, this wish is sincere,
Merry Christmas to you and a Happy New Year.