Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Too Fat For My French Horn


Note: Photo added after Dive's comment. This is GF Handel's monument at Westminster Abbey.

I used this phrase yesterday, “Too fat for my French horn,” and it made me laugh out loud. I know it’s rude to laugh at your own jokes, but I was surprised when the words came out as if someone else had typed them, and I couldn’t help my reaction.

I was thinking about how physically sluggish I have become and how I probably need a little exercise. Plus, I have noticed that when playing my French horn, I need to take breaths more often than I used to. My lung capacity doesn’t seem to be what it once was, so I suggested I might be too fat for my French horn. See, even repeating it here makes me giggle. I like the alliteration, and I think the phrase is almost poetic.

So, in the interest of poetry:

I am too fat for my French horn,
too burdened on the lungs
to inhale and exhale enough.
I breathe just enough
but want more, to breathe more.
I am too fat for the swings at the park
where I whirled with my girls
when they were younger.
I am too fat for my wedding dress
I wore when I was younger, too.
There were jeans I slid on day after day
but I am too fat for my old jeans.
They hung in my closet until dust caked the fold
and I gave them away,
bagged them with size eights
and tossed them straight in the bin.
I don’t ride the swings or wear the dress,
and the jeans went away with good will.
And I shrug.
I sit tight with my French horn
and breathe and breathe just enough.
I am too fat for my French horn,
and I want more, to breathe more.

8 comments:

dive said...

Wonderful poem, Robyn!

However, no WAY are you fat! And especially not too fat for your horn. Do you remember seeing the statue of Handel sitting with his horn on his lap in Westminster Abbey? He was far more rotund than you'll ever be. I've seen photos of the Greco band and you are sylph-like in comparison to some of the players there.

Plus, folk our age should not be seen on playground swings or wearing tight-fitting clothes. That's just creepy.

Enjoy the natural spread of your middle years. Revel in your prime. Sashay down the street in your comfortable, baggy clothes and feel great about it. And blow that horn with joy!

Scout said...

Dive, you are misremembering the composition of the statue. But I'm glad you like the poem.

savannah said...

some days i feel like norma desmond in sunset boulevard, sugar! ;~D love the poem, by the by! xoxoxox

dive said...

I am at that age where misremembering is more common than remembering, Robyn.
That photographer must have been up on top of some scaffolding. Handel is way up that wall. We had to crane out necks to see him (though I could be misremembering).

Scout said...

Savannah, do you have a dead chimp in your boudoir?

PF said...

I love your post and your poem! I just had the unfortunate experience of having to buy new capris because some of the ones currently in my closet don't fit. I am too fat for my capris! Grrr.

PF said...

I love Dive's comment too..."Enjoy the natural spread of your middle years". You rock, Dive!!

Shan said...

Hahaha! I like the alliteration too and understand the exaggeration as well! When you are fatter than you were at one point-you just feel TOO FAT for things.
That was a nice poem though. Of course Dive's commentary was enjoyable as well. :D Ahh, aging. The discomforts and joys of it all.