Only The Ice Cream Shows...

There's something I want to state

about the problem of my weight.

I know that it's a sin-

to let yourself get in the shape I'm in.

I'm going to control it - I can I know-

meanwhile I'm glad that my other sins don't show.

When I don't read my Bible or pray-

or some angry word I say-

I'm so thankful people only see-

the french fries sagging on me.

And when I tell a little lie

it doesn't hang on my hips like apple pie.

I wonder how I'd look if each unkind thought-

tightened around my knees like the pants I bought.

And whatever would I do to hide my hate,

if it hung outside for all the world to see that sin-

hanging there like a double chin.

If my indifference stuck like glue- the way Italian sausages do,

and if gossiping put fat where I once was thin-

oh my, what a shape I'd be in.

If every little doubt were a piece of lemon pie-

my weight scales could not measure that high.

Thank goodness that no one but God knows-

because when you look at me

only the ice cream shows!