Weighing it Up

WEIGHING IT UP

Tonight I’m on a girl's night out and in my head that’s great,
Because in there, I’m young and slim and I haven’t put on weight.
But there’s this hippo in my mirror though I’m sure it can’t be me,
For everything I’ve had today’s been fat and sugar free.


No, I’m sure that I’m much slimmer; I could never be that size,
That’s someone else who’s looking out or my mirror’s telling lies.
But I know I’m fooling no one and it’s giving me the hump.
To think that skinny thing I was, has turned into a lump.


I don’t know how it happened, or when it came about,
But the sylph-like girl I used to be is now quite squat and stout.
So, how to dress for a girl’s night out, when I want to look the part,
But the clothes I own are all too small and I don’t know where to start?


Let’s search the drawer of underwear, pick out that ‘cross your heart’ bra,
At least once inside that contraption, these melons won’t stray far.
Then hunt out those Bridget Jones knickers, with panels at front, back and side.
I’ll struggle to breathe or bend over, but they’ll keep all the flab trapped inside.


Now squeeze into my hot black number; that colour makes me look thin,
Then step into high heels to look taller and remember to hold it all in.
So, I’ll pass for tonight as we sample the bars and I try to drown my sorrow.
Then I’ll fall into bed and vow yet again, ‘My diet starts tomorrow!’