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With various shapes we are blessed,
Seldom just what we’d prefer.

We should not compare with the rest,
But, so human, we look at ‘her’—and ‘her’—and ‘her.’
Though we’re envied some by the plump of us,
The lament of those of the thin of us,
What is labeled the ‘gluteus maximus’
Turns out to be ‘gluteus minimus.’
However, those of us less-ly gifted
May envy the ‘pectoral majorus’
Of those who need theirs uplifted
While ours are ‘pectoral minorus.”
And the fullness and bounce of the stern
Of those who are solid and plump
May make the less buoyant burn
At attention given each bump.

The abs, all of us will agree,
Ought to look flat and oh, so, so thin.

Will the strain of it show on our face
As we try holding them in?
And, so the thin or plump of us
If to our need of health will attend,
Can accept each wrinkle and bump of us,
It’s what’s inside that counts in the end.

©2010 Carol Morfitt

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