I hate bloody diets, I find them a pain,
But my once comfy jeggings are feeling the strain.
I tried in November, a pre-Crimbo surge,
But found myself swamped by a gingerbread urge.
Then Christmas arrived, best intentions all fell.
I ate half of Asda, plus Santa as well.
I’d generally cut back in January,
But not this year lovelies.
Not this year, not me!
This year I adopted a new attitude,
Rebuffed resolutions and stuffed in more food.
I proudly announced with a chocolate fuelled cheer:
“Why should I starve at this bleak time of year?”
And then it got warmer, the nights were less dim,
You’d think I’d have managed to get a bit trim?
But no. I had issues. Could not move my legs.
The cause was apparently Cadbury’s creme eggs.
I tried to be clever – so using my nous,
Thought: Simple – Don’t have any junk in the house!
But then I considered my plan’s crucial flaw…
What if a visitor knocks on the door?
The in-laws, and play dates – they all require food!
There has to be snacks or they’ll think I’m just rude!
And so I just purchased my least favourite things.
Like chocolate marshmallows and coconut rings,
Which frankly turned out to be quite a mistake,
When push comes to shove they’re still basically cake!
And with limited choice they still went in my trap.
All just as unhealthy, but tasted like crap!
So now, summer looms.
I’ve hit critical stage,
I wince with each turn of the calendar page.
The holiday’s booked, and we count down the weeks,
I stare at the mirror and puff out my cheeks.
Whilst upstairs it growls in a locked dusty drawer…
That swimwear, that perfectly fit once before!
I need to be good and get slightly more thin,
If only so Greenpeace don’t roll me back in.
I start off each week now with “Diet Monday”.
And say “This is it now! I’m starting TODAY!”
And scheme: “What I’ll do is I’ll start with a fast!
To kick start my plan.”
(Which of course doesn’t last).
By twenty to eight I am craving a fix,
“That’s fine though” I reason.
“I’ll have Weetabix!”
(And maybe just one or two toast crusts of course?
Thus followed by “Guilty Mum Toast Crust Remorse”).
I decide that perhaps it’s ok?
As breakfast SHOULD be the best meal of the day!
It’s not all that bad, it’ll all be alright.
I’ll make sure that lunch is just even more light…
I’m home from playgroup.
Planning a banquet of rocket and soup.
But then from the cupboard I hear a loud shriek!
(I’m slightly concerned to find biscuits can speak?)
I just have a titchy one, just for today,
It’s bloody hard work all this tough stay and play!?
I’ll just skip the soup, and have rocket for lunch.
I’m sure it’s the same when it comes to the crunch?
The toddler awakes and is ready to snack,
It’s barely gone 12 but my appetite’s back!!
I lovingly make him a sandwich of cheese,
Perhaps have a taste, just to test if you please?
And chomping on cheddar it suddenly clicks,
This evening is date night!
We’re off to the flicks!
We’ll HAVE to eat popcorn – it’s simply the law!
As what the hell else are those cup holders for?
Of course! Well that solves it.
I might as well eat!
It isn’t my fault. It’s a worthy defeat!
There’s no point in dieting just half a day,
Then having to go out and snack anyway?
I’ll just start tomorrow.
That sounds like a plan!
I’d best eat this cake then,
Just while I still can….
(…The rest of the day is spent stuffing my face.
I have no excuse.
I’m a blimmin disgrace!)
The very next day I awake filled with vim!
Still giddy on popcorn, quite full to the brim!
“Today is the day!” I announce with a smile.
I flick on the kettle, reflect for a while,
I stop to consider and gaze at the sky….
Start a diet?
Are you high??
“Ah fudge it” I reason.
Perhaps…. I’m alright!?
And I’m NOT overweight?
Just a bit under height!
And what can I do about not being tall?
“Nothing” I reason: “Nothing at all!”
Linking up with: