Aware we are wilting but forced to wait
Wake up each day and trust in fate?
Pah! This is a modern era and fate died
We must prune and pluck and pinch.
Bra to lift and belt cinch.
I shall be fat when I am married.
And ladies shall cry, “Oh!
Is not it shocking how she has let herself go?”
And as they snicker I shall smile;
Eat a cake once in a while
(or perhaps oftener than that)
And I shall enjoy being fat
And going without brushing my hair
And seeming not to care.
But for now I must watch what I eat
I must wear shoes that hurt my feet.
I must prune and pluck and pinch,
My waist gain not a single inch,
I must draw lines beneath my eyes
And when in bed suppress the sighs
Of inevitable disappointment-
Not when I am married! Oh, no!
When I am married I shall be fat-
And where shall be the shame in that?