Horror Poem

It was Saturday night, time for the dance. There in my wardrobe, a little black dress. A formal affair so I couldn’t wear pants. I’m a vanity queen, I must confess. I looked in the mirror, just a short glance. The dress was all wrinkled, needed a press. Smoothing the skirt there were terrible signs. The little black dress, showed my panty lines. I thought about this to make a decision. My reflection was awful making me moan. My little black dress may need a revision. Panty lines showed, where my hips had grown. This horrible sight that I did envision. When I bought this dress I was skin and bone. There’s only one way to impress the guys, So under my dress is a naked surprise.