A poem by Lanie Barrett
An unyielding Need presses this Confession.
As by cold Winter Winds from North I am bound,
I am Persuaded by gripping Chills so absolute:
That this Servant to Warmth should shed more Pounds.
The superfluous Stratum of Flesh on these Haunches,
Thaws not, though enclosed by layers of Flannel.
Which is why with heavy Thoughts I write to You,
Faithful Lighthouse Keeper of Seaward Channel.
It has become Apparent through diligent Study
That Whale Oil’s reached Unobtainable Status.
To keep your Lighthouse with Intensity Burning,
I am quite willing to offer a Solution less Callus.
To save you from seeking the Blubber of Whales,
Take what I offer with No Strings and Whole Heart.
Though quite Attached to these Haunches I am,
With Them this Writer is happy, most willing, to Part.
Though I, like a Whale, of Harpoons am a feared,
I would be honored to procure by Physician’s Vacuum,
This Blubber, which lends neither the Warmth,
Nor the Comfort of which It may be presumed.
Though I have found no Great Use for this Fat,
‘Twill for you, I’m certain, burn Bright and Eager.
Think of the precious Time you will save
Dear Eighteenth Century Lighthouse Keeper.
Saving pains for you, diligent Light Tender,
Is the humble Wish of my disquieted Heart.
This Blubber, admirably employed on rocky Shores,
Would be the greatest Commodity I could impart.
Permit me to say in the Shell of a Nut,
That this owner of Spare Cushion so awesome,
Desires to safeguard those Tuckered at Sea
Through the donation of her cold, cold Bottom.
Author’s Note: Rex and I were at dinner with some friends (Hi Paul! Hi Maelee!) and we girls did the obligatory are-you-going-to-the-bathroom-I’ll-go-with-you thing. We followed a couple of older women to the restroom and, I have to admit, I checked out their butts!
I have this deeply held desire to know what my hindquarters are going to look like when I’m older. Will I sag or will my seat remain firmly in the upright position? The entire time we were in the ladies’ room, it was on the tip of my tongue to tell one of the women, “I hope my butt looks like yours when I’m your age.”
On days like this when the wind is frigid as all get out, I feel like my bottom is never going to thaw out and it just seems ridiculous to keep it around if it’s doing nothing to keep me warm. With a permanent impression of how nice a rear end could look, I briefly considered lipo. Very briefly. Then I dismissed it on the basis that it would be my vanity speaking.
Unless I did it out of charity.
All these people in the world getting lipo and throwing out perfectly good fat! You know, I figure that stuff would have been pretty valuable to an 18th century lighthouse keeper with it being so whale-friendly and all.
Look, Ma! No harpoons!
Think of all the whales we could be saving if we all donated just a little of our wealth.
P.S. Although this isn't quite as profound and stirring as the Advent Conspiracy video, it's kind of in the same vein of thought: Living with less so you can give more.
P.P.S. A whale would probably have provided a little more blubber than I could. Just sayin'. I mean, it's really the jeans that make my butt look big.
P.P.P.S. Don't look at my butt.
Comments
congrats again, this piece was very captivating and well put. In my opinion you are rock the @Redunk house right now