This is about the least judgmental image I could find and most descriptive of my condition. |
Yesterday a friend told me
It looks like I’m losing weight
Already a dear friend of many years
He was not sucking up perhaps
Thinking to compliment me
Encourage me along a good direction
I self-effacingly offered what was
Lost from my face had merely
Relocated a few feet down
On my gravidic center the scale
Which fails to disclose any losses
Doesn’t have a register to say
You’re more compact denser
Like a box of rocks shaken
So one could add more dirt
Fat clothes are those you preserve
To serve on the day when
Unpredictable growth occurs
One must wear something
Till the swelling goes down
Middle clothes are those you use
Once the inflammation relents
Unfortunately they lead one to think
The process will continue on its own
And that’s when the fat clothes
Take up the slacks so to speak
Thin clothes are what other people wear
A friend of one of my sons in youth
Is a promoter believer enthusiast for
An exercise program with guided eating
He’s dramatically svelte as the numerous
Facebook photos assert and I’m happy
He’s young and active enough
To take on a regimen that keeps him buff
Taut presentable while septuagenarians
Like me tire from nodding yes
It’s remarkable how sculpted he looks
Our teeth grinding jealously I can’t
Imagine my hopping jabbing poking
For the time the full plan requires
Without exhausting myself
Thinking about it
Somedays I’m happy just to get out of bed
Feed my critters let them out
To relieve themselves while
I go back to bed exercise plans
Full of squats jumps leaps thrusts
Are like thin clothes
For somebody else
c. J.S.Manista, 2015
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