Twas The Month After Christmas

Twas the month after Christmas and all through the house

Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.

The cookies I’d nibble, the eggnog I’d taste.

All the holiday parties had gone to my waist.

When I got on the scales there arose such a number!

Then I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber).

I’d remember the marvelous meals I’d prepared;

The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared.

The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese

And the way I’d never said “No thank you, please”.

As I dressed myself in my husband’s old shirt

And prepared once again to do battle with dirt…

I said to myself, as only I can

“You can’t spend a winter disguised as a man!”

So…away with the last of the sour cream dip,

Get rid of the fruitcake, every cracker and chip.

Every last bit of food that I like must be banished

Till all the additional ounces have vanished.

I won’t have a cookie – not even a lick.

I’ll have to just chew on a long celery stick.

I won’t have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie.

I’ll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.

I’m hungry, I’m lonesome, and life is a bore…

But isn’t that what January is for?

Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.

Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!