Am I Fat? Poem by Brigette Thorn

Am-i-fat-am-i-fat-am-i-fat-am-i-fat
Is it just fiction, or is it just fact

Am I thin, am I short, am I stout, am I tall
Am I far from the ground, do I fit up the hall

Can I carry my babe in my blubbery arms
Can I still dress up nice and exude all my charms

Have I shrunk just a little, my undies feel big
Have they lost their elastic, or am I a twig

Do I swim every morning, or still ride a bike
Do I run up the foot path, do weights- do I hike?

No no no, no I dont, I don't do it at all
But I chase round the children who run up the hall

And get off the floor 60 million times over
And I run through the park till the sunlight is over

At night when the little ones hop into bed
I read them a story, but daren't rest my head

As the night is still young, and there's much left to do
Reconstruct the whole house and rebuild the mad zoo

Then when I finally hop into bed
Do I care if I'm fat?

Not a bit…I'm half dead.