I Can’t Eat That Anymore

Hot dogs topped with sauerkraut and the

Spicy mustard I adore.

Blaze-hot jalapeno

Meant to make me sweat from every pore.

Greasy, cheesy pizza crowned with

Every topping in the store.

Take it all away ‘cause

I can’t eat that anymore.

 

Time was, not so long ago,

(It really seems like ages though)

That any grub to grab and go

Could fit my appetite.

And though I’m not persnickety

There’re many foods that get to me

And seem to wage a battle

I am not prepared to fight.

 

I could just grin and bear the bill,

Or have a cup of chamomile

And maybe I’d be fine as wine

To even up the score.

But I just keep on tempting fate,

Remorseful over what I ate,

Regretfully repeating,

“I can’t eat that anymore.”