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 marvellous 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 cornbread, 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!