Ode to 52

Oh, 52…You wicked age.

I welcomed you, as Life's next stage.

You told me age would make me wise.

Oh, really? 

Try telling that to my thighs.

At 51, I was trim and lean.

I could eat French fries, and chocolate ice cream.

At  52, a lettuce snack

Will add 5 pounds to my view ‘round back.

The biggest ‘gift’ mid-life doth bring

Are calories that seem to cling

To waist and tummy and hips and chin.

But, 52,

You will not win.

My new regimen has now kicked off.

I’m 52, but I’m not soft!

A two mile walk will start my day.

And, sugar’s out.. but veggies stay.

No fats, no sweets, no restaurant cookin’,

At least until I like how I’m lookin’.

So, 52, just kiss my grits.

Oh... and, eat them, too.

They’re off my list.