I knew Myrtle when she was tiny, <br />her cheeks all rosy, her energy, sprightly. <br />As she got older she grew and she grew, <br />she wore a 16 and a size F cup too. <br /> <br />She wasn’t less pretty or anything bad, <br />we thought her large frame was just puppy fat. <br />Sadly, she hated herself more and more <br />and began to avoid all her meals! Such a bore. <br /> <br />Soon she grew thinner, far thinner than most <br />and so dear old Myrtle did die, now she’s toast. <br />I loved my friend Myrtle and when she was tubby <br />it didn’t stop Myrtle from being quite lovely. <br /> <br />The moral is clear to you folks with a tummy, <br />don’t starve yourself thin or you’ll die, it’s not funny. <br />If Myrtle were here I’m sure she’d have said <br />if you starve yourself thin you’ll end brown bread.<br /><br />Ruth Walters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poor-myrtle/
