The Great Weight-Loss Fiasco

I started on Monday, and my mission was so clear.

To shed all the pounds I'd gained through the year.

With carrots and lettuce, I filled up my plate.

But those chocolate chip cookies still looked pretty great.

I signed up for yoga. I stretched and I bent.

Until I resembled a pretzel, all twisted and spent.

I tried running too, but I must confess,

I made it two blocks before needing a rest.

Smoothies for breakfast, green juice for my snack,

I dreamed of the pizza that I'd soon attack.

I passed on the ice cream, the cake, and the fries.

But visions of burgers kept filling my eyes.

I joined a support group; we met every week.

To share in our triumphs and when we felt weak.

But secretly plotting, while doing our squats,

We'd hide donuts in our flower pots.

The gym was my haven. I'd sweat and I'd groan.

While watching my friends dine on meat with a bone,

I'd lift and I'd pedal; I'd dance and I'd spin.

I'm just dreaming of all the desserts I'll soon binge on.

Then one fateful night, as I lay in bed,

A thought so delicious popped into my head.

This diet was torture; this struggle was real.

Couldn’t I just eat without all this ordeal?

So I ditched the scales and the measuring cups.

I swapped out my salads for glorious soups.

I decided to live, to laugh, and to cheer.

To enjoy every moment without all the fear.

And as I embraced my curves with delight,

I found joy in the morning and peace in the night.

So here’s to the journey, not the waist or the weight.

For life’s too darn short to skip on the cake!