We were thrilled when Shapeling A Sarah posted this poem as a rejoinder to a grossly fat-shaming one that is making its way around via email forwards. Thank you, A Sarah, for sharing your brilliant wit with all of us!
About A Sarah: “I write song parodies as a way to deal with stress (and got one published once, but under my real name), I’m married with two small kids, and I once had a paid acting role in a radio drama for truckers.”
A Visit from Aunt Fattie
‘Twas the month after Christmas and all through my body,
I was quite unconcerned with being a hottie.
The legs from my mom’s side, the shoulders from dad,
The cells made from holiday meals I’d had…
All parts were happy, contented, and warm,
Joyful and useful and causing no harm.
I grabbed my down comforter, kicked off my shoes,
And settled in bed for a long winter’s snooze.
When from the bathroom there arose such a clatter!
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the loo I flew like a flash!
(But my stomach felt fine, so I threw up no sash.)
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But the talking scale which I’d thrown out last year!
More rapid than eagles his insults they came.
He whistled, he shouted, he called me a name:
“Now, Failure! Now, Ugly! Now, Sloppy and Lumpy!
Unloved, Unlovable, Loathsome and Dumpy!
Count points, log your food, and get ‘healthy,’ you cow.
Waste away! Waste away! Waste away now!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So into my mind his aspersions they flew…
I thought, “Oh, I’m loathsome. Whate’er shall I do?”
I hated my shoulders, my legs, and my tummy,
And all of those meals I’d thought were so yummy.
I hated myself for my natural weight range.
I decided to diet… er, make a ‘lifestyle change.’
But just as I started turning around,
Down the chimney Aunt Fattie came with a bound.
She was dressed all in pleather, from her head to her heels.
On her chest and her cape? Baby doughnuts, for reals.
Her eyes – how they twinkled! Her dimples – how merry!
Her cheeks were like roses, her nose like a cherry!
The stump of her stogey held tight in her teeth,
And the smoke it encircled her head like a wreath.
She had a broad face and magnificent belly,
That shook, when she laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
Though chubby and plump, a right jolly old auntie,
The sight of my scale caused her to get ranty.
“Don’t listen to him,” she said. “I mean, really!
Diet for weight loss? What for? Oh, how silly.
Imagine a pill that, for just three percent,
Does all of the things that the pill-makers meant.
Everyone else? They’ve just wasted their money.
But now let’s pretend the pill also tastes funny,
Gives you bad breath, makes you cranky and tired,
And, oh yes, three hours a day are required
To swallow it. Tell me, do you think you’d try it?
‘Cause, honey, that’s just what you get with a diet.
Or let’s say it works. What then? You’re entitled
To live life unhindered, unbroken, unbridled?
Your diet success gives you license to dance?
Swim? Work out? Run a race? Wear tight pleather pants?
Make a friend? Make a date? Take a break? Take a bow?
Girlfriend, you know you can do those things now!
Plus, FAT ISN’T BAD, for Pete’s sake. It’s just tissue.
If others don’t like it, it’s their goddamned issue!”
So we jumped on the scale, which shattered to bits,
Then spent hours indulging our sardonic wits.
And I heard her exclaim, ‘ere she turned on her heels,
“Hell yeah, some things taste just as good as thin feels!”