(This is a repeat post....I've been busy working on a book.)

Old Lady Moving

When I stare at my bare reflection,

I observe more than one objection.

Time and the table have not been kind

To either me or my behind!

Where I should have "six pack" abs,

I have a serious case of the "flabs;"

And my all too visible obliques

Are not what you'd really call "sleek."

My biceps have no strength

And my triceps have too much length!

And then there's my Gluteus Maximus--

"Junk in my trunk" the size of a minibus!

I dragged myself to the gym

In hopes that I might get slim.

I know I should get fit,

Even though I'd rather sit.

I signed up for a class

I hope will trim my ass.

They call it "Silver Sneakers,"

And it's just for us old 'creakers."

The graying and the bald

All come, like we've been called,

To stretch and strain and sweat

Our way to a slight silhouette.

The Goddess of Pain issues commands

Involving these taut rubber bands;

If we want to be rid of the flabs,

We must suck in our abs!

She is so lithe and svelte,

We believe our fat will melt.

We hang on her every word

Like lemmings in a herd!

There is not one among us

Who'll be Venus or Adonis,

But we just might succeed in

Improving on our breathing.

All of that gyration

Will increase the circulation;

And ramping up the heart rate

Just might delay our death date!

An original poem by Eva Gallant