Gone with the Weight

The snow as my Fitbit, I’m walking in winter again.
Mirror as reminder, I vow not to sprout one more chin.
The sky sheds its snow. The clouds look positively slim.

The pounds are my bricks, but how to unmortar my skin?
Carbohydrates, my mistress. Kale?! a pristine Rosaline.
The sky sheds its snow. The clouds look positively slim.

The popstar who sang of fat melting like ice? Like a pin.
My coat as my idol, I’m wishing I could be worn thin.
The sky sheds its snow. The clouds look positively slim.

In “glutton for punishment,” is that gluttony still a sin?
A doctor once said I looked doughy. I’ve no rolling pin.
The sky sheds its snow. The clouds look positively slim.

Try the Dorothy Parker Diet: two parts wit, one part gin.
Or the Scarlett O’Hara: Don corset. Let Civil War begin.
The sky is a mean girl who keeps on rubbing it in.