Once I was a teen film queen.

My tenderloins were taut and lean.
Each morning I ate one wax bean,
and every evening salad greens.
And in between I’d bathe and preen,
and paint my toe hooves tangerine.
Once I was a movie queen:
the lean, clean, lonely Mean Maxine.

BUT THEN ONE DAY

I spied my porky Max, and now
I’m his potbellied, smelly sow.
He’s not refined, and when we dine
he grunts and snorts. But this swine’s mine,
and we’re in love. I lick his snout;
he likes me stout. Why not pig out?
Max snacks on hogwash. I eat swill.
I stayed for lunch. I’m playing still.
We roll in filth and smut and grime
and have a rollicking good time.
My tail’s uncoiled, my ham is spoiled
I never wash, my pen is soiled.

So if you feel lonely or mean,
perhaps you are too thin, or clean.