sonnet She was as vain

Shed read as vain as true Id think my type
All narcissists sustain a decibel
At one in plummy tones they trill and pipe
In looking glasses trapped they comb and gel
Shed trash my tribulation horrid hype
On her own trivial troubles ages dwell
Who could call her a gorgeous guttersnipe?
It was indifference not kiss and quell
Perspective wasnt her vast virtue viewed
At surgical enhancement she just jeered
Boom bust bra sizes struck so slightly weird
And yoyo diets endured as fuel for feud
I wave off women who while yearning yawn
I break off bothered either brain or brawn
Chorus yawn crack split