Ah Winter, you beast!

With your frosticle mornings,

your quiversome evenings,

your sod-it-let’s-whack-on-the-old-central-heating’s,

how I do dread your draughty blue fingers.

I shiver from Autumn to Spring.

Atchoo!

 

However,

my belly?

She loves you,

so much, so munch.

My fill-me-quick,

stick-to-ribs,

multi-carb monster-meal

pudding-enveloping

wintering belly.

Well,

she just adores you.

 

Loves to indulge in custardy puds,

treacley syrupy chocolatey sponge,

melty and lickety velvety troughs.

Oh yes,

my belly adores you.

 

Not happy until she’s doubled in size,

gorging on pies, potatoes and cake;

her waistline forsaken for warmth

in the months that make me go ‘brrrr’:

Octobrrrr, Novembrrrr, Decembrrrr,

etcetera.

 

So bring on the soups, the stews and the pasta!

Bring on the butter and bread (doorstop)!

Bring on the seconds, the thirds and the fourths,

and bring on the bread once again

(with crisps).

 

For winter - you beast!

My belly adores you

and I adore feeding my face.                         

So fuck ‘being fat’

I’m embracing my layers

and filling my gob with more cake.