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 would 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 it was less a walk than a lumber.
I remembered the marvelous meals I'd prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rare.

The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese
And the way I'd never said, "None for me, 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 only I can
"You can't spend another 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 chew only on long celery sticks.

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, life's no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!

[ Author Unknown -- from 'Heartwarmers' (publisher@heartwarmers.com) ]