Version 3: Do You Think Maybe You Need to Exercise

[ClaireLou]

Like chocolate chips in bread batter
I’m homely with that little something extra.
 
Average height, weight, foot size,
My glasses mist over at the mere mention of cardio,
Satisfactory with attitude!
 
But, someone always needs to introduce those eight little words.
Eight words drifting in a polluted sea of misconception,
Unwanted but present, bobbing along
In between the lies, small
But still deception nonetheless.
 
Surely they should be wrapped in cotton wool,
Coated in Candy Floss to add to their sweetness,
Masking the bitter pill, a caustic voice,
That basic dismissal of your natural image,
The choice of how you see yourself.
 
I will never be perfect
With desires more than a selfie stick & millionaire status,
Always emotionally charged
To the beat of Energizer Bunny’s drum, I have hope
In each photographic image, I can cope with the inflections.
 
I know that each roll of softly kneaded skin,
Each crazy paved line
Is a smile, a frown.
 
I do not believe in Photoshop.
So pass me the chocolate fudge cake
With a double scoop of salted caramel ice cream 
Gym membership be damned!


--
Like chocolate chips in bread batter
I’m homely with that little something extra.
 
Average height, weight, foot size,
My glasses mist over at the mere mention of cardio,
Satisfactory with attitude!
 
But, someone always needs to introduce those eight little words.
Eight words drifting in a polluted sea of misconception,
Unwanted but present, bobbing along
In between the lies, small
But still deception nonetheless.
 
Surely they should be wrapped in cotton wool,
Coated in Candy Floss to add to their sweetness,
Masking the bitter pill, caustic voice,
Basic dismissal of your natural image,
Your choice of how you see yourself.
 
I will never be perfect
With desires more than a selfie stick & millionaire status,
Always emotionally charged
Like the Energizer Bunny stuck in hyper-mode, but I have hope
In each photographic image, I can cope with the inflections.
 
I know that each roll of softly kneaded skin,
Each crazy paved line
Is a smile, a frown.
 
I do not believe in Photoshop.
So pass me the chocolate fudge cake
With a double scoop of salted caramel ice cream
And gym membership be damned!

-----

I believe that I'm ok.
Like chocolate chips in bread batter,
I'm homely with that little extra something.

Average height, weight, foot size.
My glasses mist over at the mere mention of the word diet,
I am a satisfactory version of me.

But, someone always needs to introduce those eight little words.
Eight words drifting in a polluted sea of misconception,
Unwanted but present, bobbing along
In between the lies, small
But still deception nonetheless.

Surely they should be wrapped in cotton wool,
Coated in Candy Floss to add to their sweetness,
Masking the bitter pill, the caustic voice,
The basic dismissal
Of your natural image, your choice of how you see yourself.

I know that I will never be perfect
With desires so much more than a selfie stick & millionaire status,
I will always be emotionally charged,
The Duracell bunny stuck in hyper-mode, but I have hope
In each photographic image, I can cope with the inflections.

I know that each roll of softly kneaded skin,
Each crazy paved line,
Is a memory, good & bad.

I do not believe in Photoshop!
So pass me the chocolate fudge cake
With a double scoop of salted caramel ice cream & make me smile