I Am Quite Keen

on recycling, though even with the best will going
it extends the use of recycled materials very little.
Vast amounts of materials simply end up in landfill.
I was reared on 'make do and mend' stretched to absurdity.
Second hand clothes were a must,
like the low status that went with them.
As clothes wore out, and went the way of all flesh
I regretted it, never thinking 'this is inevitable'.
As Mother took me to the thrift shop
for the umpteenth time and we dug around
for cheap shirts and school trousers
she repeatedly told me how much more
I had than she idd when she was my age,
and how much better fitting my life was than hers.
To be told this hurt me. It seemed that my having better
had made her suffer, as if I had made her a martyr.
Her DIY martyrdom still bounces around my head,
even though I know now that she was the was the one
to drive me to accept solely what she found.  
Now I make sure that what I have is cheap,
and rejoice! I am no better than I ought to be.
I am of dubious morals, and the low in virtue.
So I can be truly glad that others are better than me.
This way I hurt less when they recycle
their jealousies by looking down on what ever I have.
I partially deaden myself, sufficient to quietly live
because I know that to live by jealousy is far worse.