The man in the mirror
said “You gotta be thinner
you’re carrying far too much weight;
you’ll never be skinny
you overgrown ninny
if you keep piling food on your plate.”

The sad eyes looked back
the mouth formed a crack
and an eyebrow rose Roger Moore style;
with a flick of the hair
I moved to the chair,
sat, and awaited my fate.

My number was called
the Doc was appalled
as the examination progressed;
“You foolish knave
it’s an early gave
for you my overweight mate!”

So a diet is needed,
advice must be heeded,
or I’ll have to chop off me leg;
to hit the right weight
for the Doc, my mate,
and stop piling food on my plate.
:crazy: