A Walian's Woes

To diet or not to diet, that is the question, A battle waged with hunger as the obsession. With labels read and calories counted with care, A will to live dwindles, leaving despair. Like a squirrel with a hoard, I cling to my food, A fear of winter's bite, a desperate mood. No winter fuel payment can make me poor, For food is gold, a precious store. A true West Walian, thrifty and tight, I'd skin a louse for a ha'penny, what a sight! But molding my body to a rubenesque dream, Costs a fortune in sculpture, a costly scheme. To lose the weight, a fortune spent, On gym memberships, a wicked intent. So I'll waddle and wobble, a comical sight, A prisoner of food, day and night. , ©️ Donna Chiffi 2024