No Regrets

X-cept that I let
my boobies droop.

I never thought my flat chest
would be big enough to sag.

I never thought I’d be flabby enough
to see my used to be firm breasts flounce and bounce.

Yet, here I am, today, writing a poem
about how I wish I had learned to make my pecs pop.

Yes, I used to stand in front of the mirror
and try to find the action to isolate the chest muscles.

Make them flex and unflex.
If only I had been more diligent in that quest,

took care of my body better
I’d be blessed with popping

eye-gawking mouth-dropping,
performance ready at all times,

mammaries.