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I will tell you this for nothing:

The infomercials and slick one-page ads

Are all true.

You can lose those forty pounds.

You can tone up those abs.

You can have a dazzling smile

While dressed in the latest designs.

But of course you won’t,

Even if you try,

And if you try it won’t be

Long enough or hard enough.

Something always gets in the way

Of the workout and the preparation

To skitter you off the rails

And back to the wreck of your life

Where the carpet collects stains

And the mold takes over the cold salad.

Better, I tell you now

To give up the fight

And allow yourself to just

Be

Yourself, who you are.

With three dogs running

Through the house skidding

On unwaxed floors

While the arch-backed cat hisses

Before storming off

To fray the rest of the sofa.