Twas The Month After Christmas
Twas the month after Christmas and all through the houseNothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I'd nibbled, 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!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 cheeseAnd the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please."
As I dressed myself in my husband's old shirtAnd 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 banishedTill 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!  ¶ 12:09 PM