This is the Curse of Being Hot
a poem by Dan Pearce
This is the curse of being hot,
and trying to be something
most people are not.
It starts with two feet planted straight on the ground,
a glance in the mirror, and a bit of a frown.
“I can change this,” thinks I.
I poke at my flub and my flab and my fat.
I think to myself,
I am better than that.
And with my two feet planted straight on the ground,
I know I’ll be hot once I lose twenty pounds.
And I begin to change myself.
I sweat and I toil,
the pounds start falling off.
I run and I jump,
I cannot be stopped.
As the number goes down,
each time I step on the scale,
my hotness level goes up.
The equation can’t fail.
I lose twenty pounds, I look fit as a fiddle.
But what about these extra ten pounds in the middle?
And some people have noticed, which is nice I admit,
But more people would notice if I was more fit.
Then a glance at my face, and I see all that’s wrong.
Perhaps a nice cream will help things along.
And what are these lines
That are starting to form?
And what are these spots?
Those can’t be my norm.
In fact, those twenty pounds really
weren’t enough to be hot.
Ten more, maybe twenty,
to finish the job?
And with time, I find a way to lose it.
This is when the curse starts really taking hold.
The curse of being hot.
No matter how much sweat
drips onto the mat,
The more weight that I lose,
the more I feel fat.
Yes, that dude with more muscle, and bulge in his eyes,
That girl who’s so skinny, I can see through her thighs.
I can be as hot as them.
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