Sunday, February 10, 2013

Another Wasted New Year's Resolution: The Failed Battle of the Bulge-A Poem

By Miriam B. Medina                              (Artist: Botero)

We all over indulge during the Holidays. We all feel guilty. We all pay for it later. We promise ourselves we'll get in the gym. We spend a few hours there, we suffer but gain no rewards because we quit. We all make silly promises to ourselves this time of year because we let ourselves go. This poem is for people tired of lying to themselves about what they will do to their bodies during all those Christmas meals. Kick back, enjoy, and don't bother loosening your belt, throw the thing away, and enjoy the one time a year that we all should indulge, at least a bit.

The Holidays are over,
New Year's coming soon
It's resolution time again
Playing that same old tune.

New Year opens its eyes,
Only once a year,
We make silly promises,
Filled with Christmas cheer (and turkey)...

So I looked in the mirror,
And was shocked by what I saw,
I am heavier now, than I ever was before,
Fat is Yule tide law!

Inspired by hope of seeing myself slim
I decided to join the neighborhood gym
Feeling quite embarrassed, and grim,
By my stomach and double-chin.

But I'd rather work out alone,
Than sweat publicly at the gym
I still have that treadmill and exercise bike
Which I bought on a sudden whim.

I'll just dust off the cobwebs,
And they'll be ready to spin,
"Pave the way," I said. Finally set to go,
Losing weight will make my face glow.

So let me start calorie counting,
To keep those pounds from mounting
While I burn this fat away
Why must I wait to start losing til New Year's day?

I can start my working out now,
And I think that I just will,
because of turkey and ham and pie,
I have had my fill...

One, two... so hard to bend over
And touch these damned new gifted shoes,
Three, four, what good are sit-ups and crunches for,
When I can't even see the floor?

Five, six, all this huffing and puffing
On the treadmill is making me sick.
Seven, eight, Geez... it's so hard to lift
these silly dumbbell Christmas gifts...

I hate my kids, and my friends,
For giving me weight loss gifts,
If I survive, this workout jive,
I'll take them off next year's Christmas list...

Nine, ten, with this midriff bulge
There's no room to do side-bends.
Don't know if all this exercise,
really makes much sense in the end,

Oh woe is me, it's only a quarter to three,
And I've only done three bends,
And I'm starting to feel hungry once again,
With all this activity.

But I must have burnt off some calories,
Too early for supper I see, so I
I'll have a snack on Christmas cookies
To optimize my energy.

To the kitchen I will go, to find
Fudge chunks or brownies laying around,
Too late, my thin brother took them home
So I can't gain extra pounds.

But I think there's Russel Stover"s,
Still wrapped up under the tree,
Aunt Clara will never know,
It was supposed to be a gift from me!

But I find it's long gone,
Nowhere to be seen,
And now I'm starting to think
There is an anti-fat conspiracy.

Suddenly I remembered
A big slice of butter crème cake
Which I carefully hid, of course,
Behind the dreaded fruit cake.

So I attacked it with a fury,
And actually even ate the stupid fruit cake,
But I think there were a few crumbs,
Left in my hungry wake,

So here's my message to those who love me,
If you really do, you'll help me find
Some food, so I don't invade distant relatives
Hard earned Christmas loot.

And without any need remorse,
Completely satisfied in my bloat
I lay back breathlessly,
And wish I didn't have to get up to find the remote.

So time to write my resolutions
And believe in them relentlessly
I know they're not solutions,
To my happy obesity,

This is what I expect, from the coming year,
To lose the weight that I have gained, from all this Holiday Cheer,
Feeling stuffed and super sleepy, it's time to take a nap, forget those resolutions,
Snore... is it time for supper yet?

That's what Christmas is for, it's not for giving gifts,
It's about stuffing your face, and making up silly lists,
Of things you'll never do, because you will forget,
By the time you drink the champagne, you'll already regret.

That Christmas came again, and so you pigged out,
On cookies and cakes and food, now your tummy sticks 4 feet out,
And so you realize, in a sugar infused fret, that
Christmas is second helpings, of tasty desires you can get!

I leave you with this happy thought,
While you feel extra Christmas doubt,
New Year's is just a guilt trip,
That we pay for pigging out!
Miriam B. Medina loves nothing more than sharing what she learns, creates, thinks about and writes with everyone she can. So be sure to check out all of Miriam's other poems at
I must warn you that Miriam B. Medina loves to write. So find yourself a comfortable chair, get a glass of wine or a hot cup of coffee and you're all set to take an informative, enjoyable trip with her. Happy reading.

No comments: