Twas A 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 slumber). 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 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 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! Author unknown Thanks For Visiting