And one day there was a mass breakout of thin women.

In shops, on street corners,
Yes it was hard work, but no pain no gain.
Skirts were shorter, tops were tighter,
Nights were longer, voices were louder,
Men were shallower, but more frequent.
Confident?  Yes, but

What had they done with my fat friends?
These weren’t the same women.
They talked of my friends as jailers,
Jailers who were fat, and nothing else, keeping them at bay.
My friends were never smug,
They were never loud or abrasive,
They didn’t believe that looks were all and,
Most important, they never put me down.

A couple of months of rigid dieting will soon put you right.
You know what they say:
Inside every fat woman is a thin woman trying to get out.

Their most attractive features
(Their hearts, their souls, their loyalty) had gone, and yet
They were better liked, by some.

I can’t believe one of those skinny bitches is trying to get out of me.
I’m fat, and good, and kind, and sincere, and I don’t believe
There’s any other woman inside me,
Any better body, or anybody better.