A Dieter's Despair

Oh my soul, be thou quiet
This is not 'another diet'
Just a program of exchange
Though some things do seem strange

Raw vegetables and 'brock-o-lee'
Does not sound too good to me
Lots of tofu and bean sprouts
While my empty stomach shouts

The meaning here is quite plain;
This program is designed for pain
Someone with anorexia planned
A program that tastes like sand

My hands are sweating, my soul is dreading
I must keep this thing from spreading
My only hope, the paper shredder
It finally made this diet better

My life in a few Funny Words

Every day I am bombarded
In each direction that I turn
By those who claim that EXERCISE
Causes flab to crash and burn

I did jumping jacks and sit ups
Went out and bought that dam machine
The one that guarantees in 30 days
I'd be trim and fit and lean...

I put it in the extra room
That we affectionately call the "gym"
With all the other paraphenalia
That will one day make me slim!

Ab mats for doing crunches
A small tramp to run in place
That awful, go-nowhere pedaling bike
That only leaves me red of face!

I have workout clothes and sweat bands
Even a "get-fit" coffee cup!
But that scale hasn't budged an inch
So, I'm on the verge of giving up!

I've just about convinced myself
That it's true what some folks say...
You have heard it too......Eat Right!
Get Fit? Die anyway!!

So for those who are devoted
To trying to make me over, PLEASE!
If God wanted me to touch my toes
He would have put them on my knees!

I believe He loves us as we are
That includes both big AND small
So when I reach the gates of Heaven
It will be with flab and all!