Death of the Fat Pants

I wrote this bit of silliness this morning. I hope it makes you giggle!

Death of the Fat Pants

Dear pants, in which I feel so fat,

I’m done with you. Hiyah! Take that!

On days when I was feeling bloated,

You kept my hinny nicely coated

With yards of fabric, dark wash blue

But, truthfully, I hated you.

Your nametag reads a ghastly “20”

Which made me want to gorge on plenty

To soothe my aching heart from woes

Which didn’t work. Oh Lordy knows!

But now I’ve made a solid pact

To turn from you, and that’s a fact.

You felt too loose when I last wore you,

So now I think I’ll have to store you,

Until that fateful future day

When I can burn your soul away

In fire of the cleansing sort

Deserved by every single jort.

And o’er your ashes we will sing

Songs of praises in a ring

Around the fire, toasty warm

A new creature will be born.

One who loves the jeans she’s in,

But also one who runs from sin

And as God’s fire refines my soul

I’m glad to see you play your role

In taking me from old to new

And giving me an awesome view

Of the reality of lasting change

That comes when my sweet savior reigns.