Tag Archives: poem about dieting

Chocolate Cake


You’re being good and I am not.
I broke my diet and got caught.
I’d have resisted if I could,
but chocolate cake just looked so good.

I bought a piece, not a whole cake.
I thought a meal of it I’d make.
But now you feel you must rebut
my obvious need for chocolate.

Will you soon go? It’s getting late,
and there’s this chocolate on my plate.
And though I know it’s impolite,
the chances that I’ll share are slight.

Of your smug lecture I’ve had enough
and now it’s my turn to be tough.
If you must fall from your high throne
and dine on cake, go buy your own!

The prompt word today is slight.



Everyone is cognizant that
runway models gone to fat
will very promptly get the axe
for appetite control grown lax.

Alas, it is a tragic truth
that larger forms are viewed uncouth.
Plus-sized is not viewed as “in,”
within a world that’s based on thin.

Designers never seem to feel
that models who enjoy a meal
do their fashions adequate
justice in the hips and butt.

Their hungry models  stroll and strut
with tiny waist and taut-stretched gut,
looking very lank and lean
and also just a little mean.

No doubt from hunger––their daily fate.
While as we watch, those overweight
have found a way to compensate.
We gain revenge by chocolate!

For the WordPress Daily Prompt: Gorge.





I have given up on oatmeal, overdosed on kale.
All these faddish food taboos have gone beyond the pale.
I do not count my calories, my glutens or my carbs.
The benefits for doing so are outweighed by the barbs.
I’m not turned on by Atkins. I can’t abide a fast.
I tried microbiotic, but the microbes didn’t last.

It’s become an epic battle when the girls go out to brunch.
It’s easier brokering world peace that where to go for lunch.
Before we take a mouthful, we must peruse all the ads
and compare what’s on the menu to the latest diet fads.
Then, once we find the perfect place and make the reservation,
Serafina calls me up to share her trepidation.

She’s started a new diet––something fabulously new––
and much as she hates to stir the pot, this restaurant won’t do.
We can’t go out for hamburgers. Laura’s a vegetarian.
She can’t abide the scent of flesh. She finds it most barbarian.
Of course, she will eat foodstuffs that are certified agrarian,
but salad’sout because my other friend is a fruitarian.

I asked them all to my house, bought exotic fruits and plums,
thinking a fruity salad would offend the fewest gums;
but a new friend cannot eat raw fruit. She finds it unhygienic,
and my artist friend will not eat foods she finds unphotogenic.
She balked at the rambutan and when she tried to swallow it,
choked and had to chug down a carafe of wine to follow it.

Molly is insisting on a diet ketogenic,
while Lucy won’t eat any vegetation that is scenic.
We’re reduced to no more dining out. Potlucks will have to do
with every guest providing whatever they can chew.
Me? I’ll bring a pizza. Pepperoni. Extra cheese.
And everyone can envy me as they eat what they please!


For dVerse Poets Open Link Night#204

Nervous Nibbling


Nervous Nibbling

Why am I so nervous? I can’t seem to remember,
yet I am as edgy as a kid is on December
twenty-fourth. I cannot seem to get to sleep.
My angst grows as I lie here trying to count sheep.
Something niggles me, but I don’t know at all
what might be perturbing me. I just can’t recall.
If I could fall asleep, I might dream a solution,
but dreamtime will not come. I suffer thought-pollution.
With clouds of agitation floating overhead,
I just can’t remain here stewing in my bed.
I haul my sorry body to the refrigerator.
I’ll have some chocolate ice cream and regret it later.
A chicken leg, some pudding, another macaroon.
Those chips up in the cupboard will join them pretty soon.
My bags and bowls surround me as I flick on the tube.
I spend hours staring at that hypnotic cube.
Then my alarm clock sounds and I am jerked awake.
My heart starts to palpitate. My hands commence to shake.
I suddenly remember what bothered me back then.
Today’s the day I set for my diet to begin!


The prompt word today was nervous.

BP and Me


BP and Me

Cook a bowl of oatmeal and throw some apples in.
Cinnamon and cranberries and walnuts are no sin.
Gotta get the pressure down––of both my life and blood.
So no more salting French fries or pies of chocolate mud.
I exercise enough, I think, nighttimes in the pool;
but midnight trips out to the fridge brand me as a fool.

So a giant bowl of oatmeal with milk that is nonfat
and a bit more exercising where I once just sat
will guarantee I’ll live at least to one hundred twenty.
I’ll have lower blood pressure and zip I’ll have aplenty.
There is no secret to long life and staying young and burlier.
The answer lies in giving up life’s pleasures a bit earlier.


The prompt word today is “Giant.” (It’s not too obvious what this poem has to do with the prompt word until the second stanza, but originally, I had “giant bowl of oatmeal” in the first line. Alas, no rhyme presented itself, so “giant” got relegated to a bit further down in the poem and became less relevant.  Oh well. Main purpose of the prompts is to get us started, anyway.)


Change of Plans

img_4755-1                                                          jdbphoto

Change of Plans

On the day you finally realize
that you have gone up a size,
you vow that this time when you try it,
you’re going to stay upon your diet.

The problem is your kitchen’s fraught
with all the food that you just bought.
A trip to Costco sealed your doom,
for though you went to buy a broom

and paper towels and toilet paper,
once you began your shopping caper,
you had no choice except to go
past the chips and candy row.

And then the bakery, with those pies
and cakes right there before your eyes!
So now it seems you must defray
your diet for another day.

There is some force inside that store
so even purists shop for more.
One goes in steadfast, stoic, haughty,
and comes out gluttonous and naughty.

Forgive yourself. No mortal can go
into that store and simply stow
one item in their cart or two.
(Or even wind up with a few.)

The problem is the route you took
and the fact you chose to look.
You should have bought, it is the truth,
more lettuce and less Baby Ruth.

The prompt today was “Realize.”

Why I Do Not Ham on Rye it


Why I do not Ham on Rye it

You cannot borrow steal or buy it.
Sumo wrestlers never try it.
Female starlets do or die it.
Vitamin makers fortify it
You never cookie, cake or pie it.
Pizza parlors terrify it.
Now and then I me oh my it,
but I hope I don’t defy it,
for if I ever hope to guy it,
I simply must stay on my diet!


The Prompt: What is  one thing at which you are the most afraid of failing?