Fat Girls Don't Get Husbands

by Greta Ginter

Fat girls don’t get husbands,
My mother liked to say,
So you’d better eat a salad
Or consider being gay.

At sixteen I had a boyfriend
And I thought she’d let it go,
But when his ass got thrown in jail
She said, I told you so.

I met a guy at nineteen
Who’d have gladly married me,
Till my brothers found him on
The sex offender’s registry.

So my mother gave ‘the talk’ again
About the boys I date—
You’ll end up with a crackhead
If you don’t start losing weight.

And yet, if I stay single
She makes life a living hell,
She’ll tell me that I’ll die alone
But say that she means well.

But if I need advice on men
It sure as hell won’t be
From a woman in her fifties
Seeking husband number three.

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