A Blatant Rip-off of a Holiday Classic

(orginally published 2007)


'Twas the night after Christmas, when all through the kitchen,
No holiday treats leftover to slip in.
The apples were piled in the fruit bowl with care,
In hopes of a new smaller size that I could wear.
The veggies were nestled all snug in their bins,
While visions of grapefruit, danced without sin;
And Bo in his corner and my gear near the door,
Remind me each day to seek to be sore,
When out of my mouth comes complaint, noise and chatter,
I remind myself it's a quick slide to fatter.
Away to the gym I trudged like a troll,
Bitterly whining about the size of this toll.
The parking lot dusted with new-fallen snow
Gave rise to excuses of why not to go,
When, what to my anguished eyes should appear,
But a shadow in streetlight, of my sizable rear.
With my middle-aged butt, so lively and quick, (not what you want your butt to be--think about it)
I knew in a moment to start working out quick.
As painful as working the muscles could be
(I especially cursed resistance level 3)
"Now, biceps! now, triceps! now, crunches and lats!
Oh, torture! Oh struggle! While losing the fat!
From the start of each day! To the end of the week!
Sacrifice and effort are required to peak!
As much as it hurts to admit this is true,
There is less in the "thinking" and more in the "do".
So more of the veggies and pushing and sweat,
There's a place in my head I know I must get.
To know that these changes are lasting and real,
To know that I want them, to change how I feel.
As I drew in my gut, and was turning around,
A gasp left my throat with an unusual sound.
In the mirror, in sweats from my head to my toes,
The image I caught, though it comes and it goes,
A woman changing, improving and smaller,
Or as Julie would say, "You look a bit taller."
My eyes -- how they twinkled! My body less scary!
My face aglow, with less weight to carry!
A body image distorted, there is no way to know,
But a belief and a hope that someday that goes.
And then it was gone, in a flash back to square one,
Oh well, there's next time, and for a moment it's fun.
Reappears the broad face, the more rounded belly,
That shakes, when I laugh like a bowlful of--oh forget that, it hasn't moved like jelly in months!
I feel chubby and plump, but not a disabled old self,
And I cry when I see her, in spite of myself;
A quick blink of my eyes, and a tilt of my head,
Sighing bangs off my forehead, thinking more pain to dread;
I'm not there yet, but willing to fight,
Avoiding simple carbs, everywhere in sight,
And laying my hand on the side of my hip,
And giving a nod, and a smirk with my lip;
I pick up my stuff and silently smile,
For the steps to the goal can be measured in miles.
And I heard her whisper, the one with the insight,
"You'll get there, my dear." and I believe, she is right.