The Mistress of Word Play

Oh no! here they come with their noses in the air.
Skirts cut short, their heels click, click, clicking.
Lipstick in place and the most perfect of hair.
too bad their brain cells aren't tick, tick, ticking.

Clueless bunch of bubble headed young girls
with their cute little hairpins and imported bags
Worrying about the bounce of their dyed curls.
talking down others calling them bitches and hags.

Their only concern seems to be what they wear.
Swallowing the pills, can't get any fat, fat, fatter.
Failing their classes but they really don't care.
Huddling together with that chat, chat, chatter.

Wonder what would happen if Daddy weren't rich,
Would sense and sensibility finally pull the elastic?
Would they tumble off the pedestal and fall in a ditch;
or would they cry and shriek, "I wish I was plastic!"