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 not gone to 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 husband's old shirt and prepared once again to do battle with dirt-- As I said to myself, as I only can
You can't spend a winter disguised as a man!!

So--away with last of 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!