Diagnosis Blubber
The doctor of reputation agreed to consultation and a physical exam.
He began by saying while I was weighing, “I see you like your ham!”
He checked my reflexes and my solar plexus, everything from bottom to top.
While pulling my ears, and all my running gears, I thought he’d never stop.
He probed for hemorrhoids and body fluid voids as I was busy looking south.
While attending these essentials, I questioned his credentials, when next he checked my mouth!
Looking for a flaw, he said, “Say Ah!” while my mouth was agape.
With his big thumbs, he gouged at my gums. I had no escape.
A fearful moment caught us when my epiglottis gave a waving flip.
When he stopped to linger, I bit down on his finger till he lost his grip.
Regaining his composure, he felt it time for closure as my mouth snapped shut.
Then he explained, telling me straight and plain, while gazing at my gut,
“Son, your longevity is threatened by obesity—we’d better have a chat.”
I said with chagrin, “It’s a good thing I came in. I thought I was just too fat.”
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