In building my resume I’m plundering through old portfolios and writings and I stumbled on a tiny poem/schoolyard rhyme this morning that I’d scribbled in the margin of some biology notes about six years ago.

Strangely, it’s relevant to a post I made the other day so, on behalf of Moronic, Self-Loathing Women’s Month I’m debuting it to the world.

Bedwarmer
(To be performed in the style of an annoying, taunting jump-roping rhyme.)

Bedwarmer, bedwarmer
He loves you
Maybe if he says it more,
Then it will be true.

Bedwarmer, bedwarmer
How long can you stay?
How many good years
Will you throw away?

One… Two… Three… Four… (etc.)