My girlish figure of yesteryear
(Whom I usu’lly ignore)
Said, most plaintively, “Tell me, dear,
What is it we stand for?”
“I speak, you see, of floors and scales,
Left groaning down below.
I speak of knees and lig’ment wails
When standing on our soles.”
Surprised, I peered ’round var’yous parts,
To ‘xamine scale and toes.
I saw her point; I gave a start
At what was ‘bscured down low.
A fur’yous resolution formed
To remedy my view.
My goal: a skinn’yer me, as norm,
And calories, refuse.
And so began a tort’ous life
Of counting veggie crumbs;
Of ‘no more fats and sugars’ strife,
Of cravings overcome.
My figure cheered and reappeared
As did my scale and feet.
My shaking, shiv’ring me, I fear
Was not as much upbeat.
“I wish,” I croak, “To have them both:
Sweet eats and view of ground.
Not starve myself to cut back growth –
And only lose five pounds!”