I'm sorta plump, I must admit
I definitely cannot be called fit
An icing of fat about my waist
But to lose weight, I'm in no haste
My arms have begun to shake and wobble
My tummy looks like an enormous bobble
I have two chins, or was it three, or four?
I have fat wrapped around my core
Although my weight doesn't bother me much,
Against my flab I hold no grudge
But my dear mother thinks I need reminding
About my growing waistline, as she keeps reciting,
'Get off the couch, put down those chips
And take a look at your ginormous hips
Go take a walk, don't just sleep
Heed my words, or someday you'll weep'
But over her advice, I have no time to brood
As I'm far too preoccupied thinking about food!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem