‘Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house
Not a garment would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I’d nibble, the eggnog I’d taste
At those holiday parties went straight to my waist.
When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber)
And thought of the marvelous meals I’d prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,
The wine and rum balls, the bread and the cheese
And the way that I’d never said, “ No thank you, please.�
When I put on my extra-large husband’s old shirt
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt—
I said to myself as only I can,
“You cant spend the winter disguised as a man!�
So—away with the last of the sour cream dip!
Go, fruitcake! Go, cookies! Go, cracker and chip!
Each last bit of food that I like must be banished
‘Till all the additional ounces have vanished.
I wont have that ice cream, not even a lick;
I’ll chew only on a long celery stick.
I wont 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 isnt 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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