Two-Fifty-Four

Two-Fifty-Four ©2012 C. Brent Cloyd I bought a new scale at the Wal-Mart store. Made it secure and level on the floor. I took a breath, then stepped on. The digits I saw made me moan. Surely, I do not weigh two-fifty-four! Let’s balance the scale, then I’ll try once more. Adjusted proper, they’ll give the right score. This time the scales will behave. I stepped on, tried to be brave. But with a grin they said “two-fifty-four”. I would like to throw these scales out the door. Wish they were lying, but I can’t ignore. I’ve gobbled many things sweet And chewed on too much red meat. My expanding poundage is “two-fifty-four”. My belly is huge, my chin is galore. Need to lose it, but process is a chore. Need diet low in fat and starch. So my stomach will not arch. Hope to be smaller than “two-fifty-four”. Would a brisk walk cause my health to restore? Would losing blubber help me not to snore? Let’s get started. Soon I say! Well - after the holiday! Cause my clothes don’t fit at “two-fifty-four”.