Your regimen is in control
you’re taking off the pounds,
the image in your mirror
is quite a bit less round,
You watch your calories and carbs
you drink a lot of water,
your eyes get wide when you decide
to do something you shouldn’t oughta.
You can’t resist that peanut stick,
the Boston cremes look good.
Can’t you see your belly filled with jelly,
do you really think you should?
Your stomach churns for crullers,
the lemon custards ooze,
you can’t decide (but you gotta hide)
whichever one you choose.
You peek around the corners
to see whose eyes are spying,
Your mind is racing, just which one
will be the one you’re trying.
You lift the lid to claim your prize
you’re dying just to try it,
then comes the phrase that you despise,
“What about your diet?”
Then you walk away dejected,
your salivation’s ceased,
Your craving for that plain old glazed,
is just about deceased.
So you grumble munching carrot sticks
when still you want to try ’em,
and you cry and moan ’til the cows come home,
“Just why the hell’d you buy ’em?”
Since you are on Weight Watchers,
counting points and such,
Never cozy up to a dozen donuts
the pressure’s just too much.
“A moment on the lips,
a lifetime on the…” OH SHUT UP!