“Eat when you’re hungry, stop when you’re full.”
What my mom says is clearly to blame.
She’s stupid, uncool, with her out of it bull–
if I did what she said, I’d be socially lame.
My mom’s in my head, her words too simple and plain,
when I eat lunch with my friends at our table.
If I did what she said, I’d be totally lame.
Instead, I proudly show off the little I’m able,
when I choose food for my lunch at our table,
to take for my plate. I want to lose pounds,
just five more, to show off how little I’m able
to become–thin, always thinner. Fat hounds,
leaving food on our plates to melt off the pounds,
we’re sure we’re too fat, too fat to attract
boys who like girls’ bodies thinner. No bounds
will we place on our dieting rules, all fact,
to stop getting fatter, too fat to attract
cute guys in the class. Everyone’s’ mom, sweeties,
gives dieting clues, teaching us how to subtract
extra calories that make us gross, uglies.
At age ten we see guys want class; big ass shame
will end up alone. My mom’s uncool, with her out of it bull.
Who doesn’t grok calories are key? Fatally lame:
“Eat when you’re hungry, stop when you’re full.”
