Thirty plus, my dress size ten,

In my forties, twelves but trim.

Fifty five, middle age spread,

Reflection in my mirror dread.

Gone are days when nice and slim,

Let battle on the bulge begin.

Fell out with Jane Fonda and her physical jerks,

Jumping and stretching my God how it hurts.

Clench in your buttocks, suck in your tum,

I'm gasping for breath, it's supposed to be fun.

All of this torture will do me no good,

If I keep on eating best butter and puds.

What you eat that's what you are,

My prospects looking grim so far.

Greedy sweet tooth I must starve

Temptress chocolate makes it hard.

Eat me it beckons, I'm tasty and sweet,

Open my wrapper just have a small piece.

My texture's so silky, I'll melt in your mouth,

Sweet tooth's encouraging have a piece now.

I've worked hard all day, I'm deserving a treat,

But pile on the pounds if I glance at a sweet.

I know if I open that chocolate bar's gone,

Be able to see it next week on my bum.

Wrestle with conscience the chocolate bar wins,

Enjoy every morsel, wash down with a gin.

Chocolate, crisps, biscuits are off shopping list,

When they're in the house I just cannot resist.

Munching on fruit and veg isn't the same,

But clothes in my wardrobe will fit me again. By L Forshaw

Hawkshead Drive, Bolton

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.