This morning I opened my closet to see
A line of fat pants staring at me.
There were black ones and white ones
And pink ones and jeans,
Ranging from extra-large to the mid-teens.
I pulled them from hangers and off of the floor,
From the very top shelf, from the hook on the door.
I made a pile, a towering hill,
My daughter slid down it; she had quite a thrill.
We opened the garbage bag and shoved them inside,
My fat pants fit for a double wide.
I held up a few as I tossed them away,
Vowing not to need them again someday.
The last time I purged my closet I found
A bunch of pants who were hanging around,
Hoping I’d one day lose enough weight
To wear them out on the town for a date.
But now those pants are the fat pants too,
And I must go to the store and buy everything new.
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