If my thigh were a sundae, it would be
rich, vanilla ice cream,
fresh ripe strawberries.
Silky, slick peaces.
Keep the calories coming,
baby don't stop at just one scoop!
I look down,
down at the representation of my strength.
These tree trunks, these landmarks of courage.
Heads turn, eyes gape.
Take a number to get a taste
of this soft, satiny skin.
That shakes when I walk,
jiggles when I dance.
A bigger size in jeans?
More sprinkles,
Oreo crumbs,
lay on the whipped cream!
There is more of me to love.
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