MM, Beyoncé, and the Hideous Hag.

I feel like a hideous old hag today. I have decided to take this with humour, so here is a hideous old hag poem penned especially for you (and you, and you, and you). Step aside, Wordsworth. 

Snow White Mirror 1

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

We all know how the story goes:

“Snow White and Queen Crooked Nose”.

A corny tale. All soft and sappy.

Boy meets girl, and all ends happy.

Snow White’s young and Snow White’s simple,

 Each cheek sports a little dimple.

(Fore or aft cheek? I won’t say –

I think it’s funnier that way).

On her skin there’s not a wrinkle,

crows’ feet or the slightest pimple.

Now what about Queen Crooked Nose?

Everyone knows one of those.

Over fifty, smells of bleach,

and wears men’s Y-fronts on the beach.

An evil cow, she has been known

to lock up kiddies all alone

Then bully them as they implore

her not to make them lick the floor.

Abruptly from her slumbers torn,

Crooked Nose awoke one morn,

Dreams of Prince Charming on a ladder

Disturbed by morse code from her bladder.

Crooked Nose said, “Bugger me!

My bladder’s full – I need a wee!”

She lifted up her evil head

and staggered slowly out of bed.

In the bathroom, washing hands,

in front of mirror Crooky stands.

She nods her head and says, “Woohoo!

Snow White, I’m prettier than you!”

Pulling close she strikes a stance

Like Cindy Crawford in a trance.

“Mirror, Mirror, on the wall,

Who is the fairest of them all?”

The mirror chokes.

The lightbulb flickers

As Crooked Nose drags on big knickers.

Into the mirror the old hag stares,

Her hairy nostrils widely flared.

“I asked a question!” she declared.

“Please answer, then I’ll go downstairs.”

The mirror said, “I’ve had my dose

Of vanity in panty hose.

You’ve asked for it so here we go:

Don’t say I didn’t tell you so.

You’re an old hag, through and through,

So please wake up and smell the brew.

Although the news may make you blue,

Snow White’s light years ahead of you.”

This little ditty is the result of a rude awakening at breakfast this morning (I only wake up when I have drunk my coffee). You can either read on to understand, or turn off your computer and go and do something more exciting, like writing a poem. (If I can do it, so can you.)

All mothers remember that moment when your child comes up really close, holds your face in his hot little hands, and stares earnestly right into your soul. He informs you with great seriousness that you are “the most beautiful mummy in the whole wide world” before planting a heartfelt, soggy kiss halfway across your eye and running off, leaving you with your heart fluttering, your stomach jiggling like a gym bag full of crickets, and salty, happy tears mingling with the trail of snot they left on your cheek.

Well, this morning, after seventeen years of reign, I lost my position as Most Beautiful Mummy in the World. Yup. Heartbreaking stuff. I’ve been demoted – I’ve lost my Most Beautiful Mummy Badge. I am gutted.

I would get over it, cos hey… shit happens. Seventeen years have taken their toll on me – gravity had the great idea of pulling my boobs downwards and sticking them on my butt. Yet what peeved me isn’t the fact that I’m not as beautiful as I was 17 years ago. It’s because I have been thrown off the podium by none other than Beyoncé. Bigfoot informed me this morning that she had been elected “the most beautiful mother in the world”. As he grabbed my laptop to show me a video of her gyrating and pouting across a beach, my heart sank into my boots.


“Bigfoot! Yoohooo! I’m over here!” Beyonce waiting for Bigfoot at Los Angeles Airport. (Photo credit: Eva Rinaldi Celebrity and Live Music Photographer)

Beyoncé is a mother; all resemblance with MM stops there. Her assets have enabled her to pip me to the post: apparently, a pert bosom, a butt tauter than Rocco Siffredi’s jock strap, and the aptitude to fold herself in half whilst singing and pouting into a camera outweigh my meagre contribution to Bigfoot’s happiness. I’m weedy competition – my lousy getting up every night for two years on the trot, cleaning up sick, wiping up tears, lying through my teeth to lovesick teenaged girls at the door whilst he hid behind the sofa and taxiing him to and from parties in the dead of night don’t appear to come anywhere close.

So Beyoncé, as the Abba song goes, “the winner takes it all”. I’m sad, but you’ll be inheriting him just as soon as I’ve got his ticket sorted. Just a couple of things: Bigfoot needs lots of food. If he slaps you on the backside and shouts « Run, everyone –  tsunamiiiii! », it actually means that he quite likes you. If he goes all quiet on you, leave him be and he’ll be back to talk when he needs to. And watch out at the shopping mall, he’s got expensive tastes in clothing. When you’ve both had enough, can you ask him who the most beautiful mother in the world is? Thanks.

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77 thoughts on “MM, Beyoncé, and the Hideous Hag.

      • Just chanced upon your blog MM and so glad I did! I will be reading this post to my 15 year old son who at 6′ 2 towers above me in height, wit and attitude!

      • Hello, and pleased to meet you! I’m glad you chanced upon my blog, too. Aren’t they amazing, teens? Yours is 15 and he already towers over you? Wowsers. I’d put a bit less fertilizer in his cereal if I were you. Now I’m off to chance upon your blog too 😀

  1. Fabulous! I love it! I love your honest creative emotional painting here. Thank you for sharing, and soon enough the hormones will wear off and reveal the most beautiful women in Bigfoot’s life are those who love from the inside out.

    • Thank you, Laura! Bigfoot is busy outside mixing concrete as I speak – I don’t think he’d be able to do that at Beyoncé’s place. I love the idea of “loving from the inside out” – beautiful description!

      • I always say that if you don’t love yourself, your heart isn’t full of enough love to truly love any other. You have to love from the inside out, and that beauty shines.

  2. Great poem and great post. The only thing not great is feckin Beyonce. She probably has a million nannies anyway so can never compare to the super mom we are!

    • 😀 Yoh, Tric! I did point out to Bigfoot that her nomination wasn’t fair because the people who voted don’t know all the mums in the world, and they probably never experienced the delight of getting up every hour every night and trying to work all day afterwards with a yoghurt sick badge on the shoulder of their blouse.

  3. This poem is just brilliant… I’m going to have to share this post on FB where there are many poets that are friends… mothers are always the most beautiful, that get tossed from the pedestal for short periods of time, that return to that higher position specially when the son next gets sick and “I want my Mommy” kicks in.. and this happens often till they marry (take it from me I know all this from experience…) also when they realise that the fantasy will never become their “Mom” they came running back, and droopy boobs and a south heading arse are quickly forgotten… Sons are funny that way when in the late teens and early twenty’s when pin up girls become fantasies that remain just that,,, fantasies… so cheer up your fall is only temporary….
    had a good laugh at that poem, just pure brilliance…

    • Aw, thanks Bulldog. I feel better now. Sniff. Bigfoot will be leaving home soon – to be honest, I’m dreading it. He won’t be too far away, and he’ll be back regularly, but he’s leaving home, bye bye… as the Beatles sang.
      I enjoyed writing the poem:
      I’m a poet
      And I didn’t know it 😀
      Thanks ever so much for sharing – much appreciated. I’m off to put on my dark super star mum sunglasses. If I rap the poem as I gyrate on the beach, could I be the new, over-forty version of Beyoncé?

  4. Great post! Rob from the Photographic Journey of Bulldog sent us to look! You know what though, Beyonce has things pretty rough, what with all that fame, talent, money, glamour, people worshiping her around the world, blah blah blah, let her have her moment of glory with the most beautiful mummy badge, she deserves a break.

    • Hello Vanessa, and welcome to the mad house! (The bottle of rosé is in the corner, ask Bulldog to put down his camera and pour you a glass.) I wouldn’t take her badge away from her – you’re right. I think we all have our own problems to deal with, and mine admittedly aren’t the same as Mrs B’s. I think that her main problem may be finding time to spend with her child – and I wouldn’t swap that possibility for anything in the world. 😀

  5. Loved the post and poem and all the comments dialogue!!! Hilarious!

    Yep, I regularly feel fat & frumpy while watching honed and toned supermums sing their hearts out …Emma does reassure me ( God bless her!!) that I look great for 50 😉 but it is of scant comfort!
    For what it’s worth if you can get Bigfoot to mix concrete you’re doing just fine! You’ll get his Supermum vote every time!!

    • Never, ever look at super mums and feel inferior! Super mums are a more dangerous breed than Beyoncé for we normal “bestest mums in the world”.
      It is a well-known fact that super mums sleep hang upside-down from the beams at night to defy the effect of gravity on their non-existant cellulite and wrinkles. They never lick out the bowl (let alone eat the organic carrot cake they were making) to make sure that they are always envied by all the others. What a terrible life to live.
      Ithink we should create a band called “Mummy Riot”, and all rap on the beach wearing Sainsbury’s bags with eyeholes cut in them.

  6. Too funny! Been there, experienced the pain and shame. My defence mechanism is to imagine the current lust-of-their-eyes first thing in the morning before the makeup / hair etc … bad breathe and all. It provides me with some balance in the world 🙂
    Great poem …. so much talent 🙂

    • Thanks, Joanne! I totally agree. I’ve told Bigfoot that we mere mortals don’t have the option of someone photoshopping the crap out of our pics – I don’t wear make-up that often, so I can only surprise him positively in that field!

  7. Brilliant poem and post, MM. Cheer up, public adulation is very fickle and Beyonce will be dislodged from her pedestal before long, while your place in Bigfoot’s heart is assured for ever.

    • Yeah, it’s Aussa! How’s life? 🙂 Hmmm. Android; I hadn’t thought about that option. Could explain the lack of cellulite and wrinkles. It must be messy when she serves up the cornflakes in the morning.

      • Life is good! I should be asleep right now but all I can think of is eating cornflakes. Luckily my bedroom is upstairs and the kitchen is downstairs and my laziness outweighs my desire for a snack.

  8. Your poem made me laugh, especially these lines:
    “Dreams of Prince Charming on a ladder
    Disturbed by morse code from her bladder.”

    Beyonce doesn’t actually look real in that photo, and what about the weirdo behind her pushing the trolley? ET with orange eye-shadow? Hope she’s not the baby’s nanny…!

    Beyonce can keep her fame and fortune, and having to arrive at an airport after a 13hr flight looking her best and wearing an uncomfortable outfit, and I’ll keep my little house and cosy, untidy living with my boys, and being able arrive at St Pancras in remnants of minimal make-up, stretch jeans and a pully. 🙂

      • Nobody who looks that good can be funny or maybe nobody who’s funny can look that good?? PS I’ve checked out Beyoncé’s blog and it’s rubbish – all she writes about is how jealous she is of Susan Boyle and endless pictures of her macrame projects…lame 😉

    • I have to listen to her songs and find out if there’s some deep meaning to them. Hang on, let’s see…
      “Baby, I want you, na na
      Can’t keep your eyes off my fatty
      Daddy, I want you, na na
      Drunk in love, I want you”
      Um. Yeah. In all modesty (ahem) I think you may be right on the poetry stakes.

  9. Ach we all have our hag days at any age, I think! I work part time at a pre school, and was informed the other day by a 2 year old that I wasn’t beautiful, but his mamma was. Cheers kiddo!

    • Noooooo. Little ragbag. I would have pulled my best Ab Fab face and told him that it’s eating too many little kids that gives me wrinkles. I bet that if you’d waited for his mum to tun up, you would have discovered that she had tentacles and one eye in the middle of her forehead.

    • LOL:-) His Chosen Counterpart would kill him if she thought he was fantasizing over a woman fifteen years his senior. I think she’s in that weird age bracket where she’s enviable, but not fanciable (does that word exist? Oh well, I’ll invent it) because she’s already gone over to the dark side (aka motherhood). However, the fact that she’s attained motherhood whilst retaining all her female assets impresses Bigfoot no end.

    • I am being a real hag today – Herr Hormone has got involved. PF is hiding behind the sofa. I would love to be Snow White, but I’d probably trip over my dress and rip the little birdies’ heads off with my teeth. Imagine something like Fiona in Shrek, but with sharp teeth and eyes on sticks, and you’re getting there.

  10. Your poem is entirely brilliant! Just wonderful! Life is harsh in the beauty department! Beyoncé won’t stay at the top of her game either. Remember, her child is still very young. 🙂 I’m getting old enough to where my beauty–“Oh, you look really good for your age”–is beginning to sound okay to me! I’m kind of like one of those optical illusion puzzle pictures…which am I? The younger looking beauty or the old hag. It depends on the lighting! 🙂

    • Thank you! I had lots of fun making it up… whilst I was doing the housework. (The next poem could be one about Cinderella, who knows?). By the time Beyoncé gets her first wrinkle I’ll look like a Sharpei puppy. But will her kid tellher that someone else is the world’s most beautiful mummy? I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, not even Wonder Woman. You DO look your age, honey. 25. Keep up the good work!

  11. excellent post, babe… 🙂 we all have bad days… 😉

    first of all: Beyoncé was my neighbor in Houston, TX… small world! 🙂 2nd of all: I’ve always loved ABBA and Agnetha’s latest CD is really awesome! 🙂 last but not least: I have no problem with age… 😉 no facelift, no botox, no silicone, quelle horreur! 😀
    * * *
    courage et haut les coeurs, au moins le tien! 🙂

  12. Aw MM I feel your pain. I had my first ‘I hate you!’ the other day, it’s only taken Geeg 14 years, I’m sure there will be many more to come. There’s nothing like the warm fuzzy glow you get from being a parent to a teenager, huh?? 😉 xx

    • Uh-oh. The teenage years are rocky – fasten your seat belt, girl. It all comes out in the wash, but it’s a rough ride at times. I think they have to cut the umbilical cord a second time if they want to be independent… but the second time round is less of a tear-jerker than the first 🙂

  13. You are so talented. I could NEVER write a poem, nor play jeopardy ! I loved what you wrote and the opening phased me not! We built our own podiums and that was way before Beyonce. Be proud when you swing your hips to HER music, she’s great ! Your confidence will continually inspire BF well past the current trend!

    • Hi there, beautiful 🙂 How are you doing? I’m sure you can write a poem. Try it – it’s not hard, I promise! You’re going to have to explain the “jeopardy” thing to me though – I had to google it and ended up with a TV game show.
      I painted the bathroom and swung pretty much everything the other day, but there was no Beyoncé on there. I prefer “The Wombles” 🙂

      • No darling as verbal as I am, writing a poem seems like torture. I am a visual thinker. Poetry is best left for you and you are quite good at it. In Leiden, NE there were poems written on many of the buildings. It was pretty cool (except many were in French 🙂

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