The podgy perils of a life on Mars

My mum had read the diet books and planned my mealtimes properly. She fed me lots of healthy stuff like wholemeal bread and broccoli. But after school each afternoon I sat in chippy bars And gorged on Glasgow’s favourite snack of deep-fried battered Mars. At ten I had cherubic looks. By 13 what I’d got Were cheeks just like a pizza top with every pore a spot Of suppurating acne which exploded like Mount Etna And was visible in Glasgow from as far away as Gretna. I’ve been obese for 50 years. of strokes I’ve had a hat-trick. My bedroom floor is reinforced, my bed is bariatric. I stand (which I find difficult) to warn against indulgence In comfort food that’s full of saturated fat’s effulgence. The undertaker tells me that he doubts there is a coffin That’s big enough and strong enough for him to take me off in And warns me that he fears my final journey to the stars Is likely to be hindered by my lifetime spent on Mars. Martin Parker, Wimborne, Dorset.