We sit down at the table, pass around the basket of bread.

Our menu in our hands, ordering we do dread.

Pasta, pasta everywhere, but not a drop to eat.

We love to see our peeps, we eat and then repeat -AGAIN?

With some laps around the clubhouse pool.

And a walk around the lake.

Another fettuccine bolognese we really cannot take.

Our pants are getting tighter, as the buttons they do pop.

And then we order dessert and pull out all the stops.

Four forks around the key lime.

Or a spoon for creme brûlée.

A holy moley to the cannoli.

Decaf cappuccino on the side.

We glance into the mirror, as it really tells no lies.

Our girlish, curvy figure, so very far away.

When we get up in the morning we start a brand new day.

A scoop of some plain yogurt- add a banana to the bowl.

We have yet to stand on the scale.

The Veal Milanese has taken its toll.

As we dress for one more table and another group of friends.

The caring and conversation we trust will never end.

If we eliminate the bread, skip the pasta page indeed.

Perhaps some broiled salmon, is exactly what we need.

Have a good Saturday-