Look at me:
I’m so heavy that I can’t see my wee-wee.
And I feel like I’m bigger than a cloud;
I’ve jam on my yam.
Dine fête Christie, a hole side of ham.

Wok’s my way
then I’m chowin’ vittles such as a soufflé
and then downin’ a full tub of Jello,
whatever food’s near.
I love crispy chicken drowned in beer.

You say a diet I should be on,
lose a hundred pounds, or maybe two.
But I fear avoirdupois that I’d lost
would too quickly re-ensue.

Gnaw a bone
from which I gobbled a gobbet of two stone.
I see neither my right foot nor my left
because of my gut.
Too much Christie—of brew, chugged a butt.*
Too much Christie. . .a too chunky butt.

Cook for me!


*491 liters