A Healthist Holiday Carol
by BigLiberty at bigliberty.wordpress.com
I don’t drink, I don’t smoke,
I gulp naught but Diet Coke.
I run marathons with glee
(and I’m on my seventh knee).
Who needs love? Who needs art?
Or diplomas? A la carte?
There’s no time to get those things,
when I’m running, running rings!
On a hamster wheel I sweat,
hoping hard abs I will get.
Minutes, days, weeks slip away,
Sweating two hours a day.
Take a class? Volunteer?
How then — gasp! — shall I appear?
Fat and lazy, always sitting,
I might take up — crafts, or knitting!
I might paint, or sew, or write;
perhaps learn to cook, I might
volunteer to help children.
How would I look, then, to the men?
They wouldn’t see me sweat and bounce,
or weigh my food, ounce by ounce —
my scale would cover up with dust.
No, skinny jeans, to wear, I must!
If (or what) I think can’t matter,
I must fear all dough and batter.
Poetry, art, love, must wait,
until I’ve zipped up that size eight.
Another language I won’t learn,
another of life’s leaves won’t turn,
a new job, talent, skill, or thought,
will waste until my body’s “hot.”