Snapshot

Sent some photos, just to . . . who knows.

Wanted good ones–Fat no shows:

But alas, it all goes south.

From my hand into my mouth.

Gonna work out somehow soon,

Just be kind while bouncing round

The living room.

FX body blasters on

Sweating, stumbling, panting to song.

They say two weeks, I say more

Maybe even more like four.

But in the end, the end is tight

Huffing, puffing, with all my might.

The hand that feeds now grasps a cup

Of either water or bone broth muck.

One month of health to the start

Of body wealth.

It’s okay, baby you can do it!

Rockin, stompin, just get through it

And in the end is firmness

All around.

Butt and boobs and belly too

Perfect for the two of you.

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