There once was a plastic surgeon.

Not richly dressed but far from a beggar,

She preffered to seem modest and was also quite clever.

She wore only the most affordable brands such as Prada Or Gucci,

And took every one of her costumers demands.

She could shmooze and praise like no other,

She had fixed everyone including her brother.

Her blond hair was alwayse kept high,

While in her hand she held a small cup of chai.

She could tuck, lift, or snip anything someone desired,

As long as the buyer was willing to pay higher.

She was of average height but grew in inches depending on her heels,

For fear of gaining a pound she only ate the smallest of meals.

Never a tear nor a wrinkle ever graced her porcelian face,

For politics and gossip she had a great distaste.

She only read the most truthful of magazines like Vogue and US Weekly,

She would chatter and murmur about the latest scandal meekly.

Her plastic patients were praised for such fake beauty,

She told her admirers whe was only doing her duty.

To help others was her honest calling,

Because she found imperfection to be very appalling.
She was the perfect plastic surgeon one could ever meet,

Her humble nature made everyone she met skip a heartbeat.