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 nibbled, the eggnog I would taste At the holiday parties had gone to my waist.

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

When I walked to the store it was less a walk than a lumber.

I remembered the marvelous meals I'd prepared; The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rare,

The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese And the way I'd never said, "None for me, 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 another winter disguised as a man!"

So -- away with the last of the sour cream dip, Get rid of the fruit cake, 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 chew only on long celery sticks.

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, life's no longer a riot. Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!