‘Twas the month after Christmas and all through the house nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies are nibbled, the eggnog I tasted.
All the holiday parties had gone to my waist.
When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
When I walk to the store (less they walk then a lumber).
I remember the marvelous meals I prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely seared,
The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese
and the way I never say, ``no thank you, please.”
As I dress myself in my husband‘s old shirt
And prepare once again to do battle with dirt—
I say to myself, as I only can
“ You can’t spin a winner disguised as a man!”
Soo, away with the last of the sour cream dip, get rid of the cake, every cracker and chip.
Every last bite of food that I like must be banished.
Till all the additional answers have vanished.
I won’t have a cookie, not even a lick.
I want only to chew on a long celery stick.
I won’t have hot biscuits, or cornbread, or pie.
I’ll much on a carrot and quietly cry.
I’m hungry, I’m lonesome, and life is a bore—
But is that what January is for?
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot
Happy new year to all and to all a good diet!