My Secret Woe

Meet the Izz! The third picture is of my sweet little Izzy looking goofily neglected as she waited to be let in this morning.
Today's poem is once again gym-inspired, only a little more personal: i'm fairly certain that it is a "manifestation of subconscious frustration" (or something :) that has built up due to several conversations of this nature:
Boy: "Go ahead, hit me! No, seriously, I don't care."
Me: "I'm not going to hurt you! And yes, I could if I really wanted to! I took tae kwan do!"
Boy: "Haha, right..."
So I wrote a poem about a creature that is having the devil of a time gaining muscle. :) The creature is a Very melodramatic snail--if you read it aloud, i would recommend giving him a whiny, nasally voice. (you're not supposed to know, for the first half of the poem, that the speaker Is a snail--but since i haven't figured out how to format pictures properly yet, and they're all at the top of the post anyway, the secret is out.) Here 'tis:

"I'd like to buy some biceps,
If you have a pair in stock--
Just not the squishy kind,
I want them firmer than a rock.
I joined the gym. I've sweated for
The best part of the year--
I must be doing something wrong!
No muscles have appeared."
"I'd love to help you, sir, but see,
Our muscles aren't for sale.
And--pardon me--but where'd they go?
You're just a garden snail!"
The snail glared, and stomped his...feet?...
He fumed and shrieked and swore--
He grew so loud, the watchman had
To show him to the door.
Outside, the snail settled down--
He sang a soulful song:
"I've got the garden snail blues,
I'll have 'em till i'm strong,
I can't lift weights, I can't wear shoes,
I've got those snail blues...."


Thank you for being here today! :) My list of things to do now includes finishing painting my bedroom door (a lovely spiced butternut yellow) and baking a Grasshopper Cake! Should be delicious! Good day to you all--