Chin down, face only you bastards.

I am very tired and not a little unhappy with my tummy.
Just copped a photo from Halloween where Im mopped out
on the floor in a stripy little number. Legs akimbo.

Torso safely tucked away or so I thought.
Well...the face is alright I thinks to meself.

But lurching out from under the pink and blue pinstripes
of my evening fodder is a gut that's been spared to much hard work.

Spills it does. Cascades if you will...

Ive thought about the gym, joined it once or twice but I dont like the company.
Nor do I appreciate some whinny from Warranwood telling me which areas of
my bodice need attention and what specifically that attention should be. Take your
shimmering cross trainers and get.

So if not the gym, a job?

Office bound.

Ride to the office?

Good for only thighs. Thighs aint in many pictures.....

No. I shall just have to be more careful when those bright lights flash
to tuck my tummy away. No fabric can be trusted. No angle to flattering.

From here on it's chin down, face only you bastards.