Appetite, I am tired of you.
Truly, I am.
You wax and wane like the moon,
gurgle like a rushing brook
over too many rocks.
Can you please be still?
Please?
Think of what I need,
not what you want.

Another cookie…
six pieces of bacon…
and crackers?

Really?

Yes.
And the rest of
those stewed tomatoes.

I see…
Let’s sit down together
to make some collective decisions
on what you say to me,
and how you say it.

Yes, I do have time
to make a salad
or cook some carrots
instead of grabbing cheese
and half a sleeve of saltines.

Yes, I do have time to clean up,
and I hear you saying it
right this very moment!
I’m not listening!

When we eat as much as
YOU want to eat,
we get sleepy.

You shush that still voice
saying we’ve had enough
with all that fear mongering!

“Waste not, want not.”
“don’t let it go to waste”.
Blah, blah, blah.

Well, guess what…
it’s going to waist.
MY waist!

I love my body,
and I am beginning to wonder
if you love it, too.

Are you even a part of my body?
Or have you somehow
separated yourself from us?

Ok, look,
decades ago I wanted us to get fat
so that the stupid asshole
stalking us
would lose interest.

He’s gone now.
He’s old for sure!
Probably can’t even
get it up anymore.

He’s bound to know by now that I won’t marry him.

I think the danger has passed.
We can be healthy again.
What do you think?

Ah, yes, the bacon…