Vegetating depressedly in front of my comp, I have lost Ctrl over my weight, And don’t know what is left to do… To page up or page down, Or make myself the clown Of my own jokes. My waistline-more determined than I Refuses to budge hence collaborating with My equally determined food cravings. The exercise, often recommended, Seems a waste of energy and GDP, Like a car made to run Just to finish the petrol. Yes, the elements act as per their choice As I retrospect on choosing better genes…
