A poem I wrote while waiting for my friend in Dundee’s Overgate shopping mall.
A rather large girl and her friend walked by, inspiring me to verse.
It’s not anti-fat, it’s anti Lycra and skin-tight jeans.
You’re a great big yellow idol
To the north of Gregg’s and O2,
And you made me lose my appetite
When you lumbered in to view.
I wonder what you’re thinking
When you dress yourself each day.
You clearly do not worry
What others have to say.
You waddle by oblivious
To your sin against good taste,
As you dig in to your pasty
Letting nothing go to waste.
It’s not so much the rolls of fat
Like some gross lemon jelly;
It’s the way the cloth rides up your side
Showing off your fearsome belly.
And I see you have a skinny friend
Who’s no oil painting either.
But she stands a chance of pulling guys
With a slug like you beside her.
As you pass your ass strains at the seams
Of your skin-tight denim trousers,
And I wonder if you really think
That your taste in fashion wows us.
May he who invented Lycra
Burn forever in hell’s fires
For the crimes it’s since committed
On girls’ fat round spare tyres.