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 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'd 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
(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 I only 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
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 want
only to 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!
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