A tongue-in-cheek musing on moving less in middle age.
As I sit and watch the telly,
I’m distracted by my belly;
Crafted out of cake and chips,
Like my massive arse and hips.
I should shift them off the sofa,
Make myself get up and go for
Exercise: a swim, a walk,
The thought of which now makes me balk.
When I was younger I would go out
For a bike ride, not a blow out.
Now I rarely move a limb
It’s no surprise I can’t get slim.
But moving has become much harder
Due to visits to the larder.
Which is where I’m often found
And why I’m getting far more round.
As I sit and read the paper,
I see folks whose figures taper.
I’d just love to be like that
But tasty food has kept me fat.