Studio 1430 - Twas The Month After Christmas

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Twas The Month After Christmas

[ return to the Breakfast Club Archive ]

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, it was much more like a lumber.

I remembered the marvelous meals I’d prepared,
The gravy’s 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 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 carrots 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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