Cookies begin their mockery of me.
They look at me up and down then laugh at my stare.
Cake stands before me and laughs at my suffering saying
He just thinks its funny how I wouldn’t give him a second look last week
But all of a sudden I want his attention now that I can’t have him.
He rather go where he’s appreciated.
I wonder if there’s anyone out there for me now that I have my restrictions.

These internet doctors are just certified conspiracy theorists.
They insist bread will pump me with carbs
And fill me up until I burst.
They’re convinced health properties of milk was pure propaganda
told by the government
They want me to know that my whole wheat life is a lie.
They want me to juice cleanse myself of all impurities
But what’s wrong with being a little dirty sometimes.

My mom wants me to deceive my body.
She says Cauliflower can be mashed potatoes if I believe
Or it can be rice if I use my imagination.
Apparently, Zucchini can be pasta just because it looks like pasta
And coming from a woman who refused to allow me to believe in Santa
That’s richer than a classic cheesecake.

I try to stay supportive.
I keep my knowledge in the back of my mind
As I allow myself to comply by these rules
But I wait for the day
When I will be reunited with my one true love
Once again.