The jar is empty, the sides scraped clean,
This disappoints me, this fading dream.
My hips will thank me, later in life,
But all I can see is this current strife.
The barren container, the fear,
That without it, I won't ever get out of here.
The veggies of the fridge are calling my name,
But the Nutella has won this game.
I run to the store, so near, yet so far,
And pick up the beloved Nutella jar.
Upon racing home, my spoon is soon smeared,
And my diet goals, murdered and no longer feared.
But life will intrude, yet again, on my peace,
And thus comes the end of my hazelnut feast.
Temptation removed, goals set once more,
Making it hard to pass the grocery store.
My life goes on uninterrupted, my fear goes away.
Until the day that Nutella, decides again, to play.
he he. This is all too true