‘Twas 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 All the holiday goodies have 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 lumber). I’d remember the marvelous meals I’d prepared; The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared, The chocolates and 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 only I 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 The last bit of food 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 to chew only on a long celery stick. I won’t have hot biscuits, or corn bread,v or pie, I’ll munch on a carrot and quietly cry. I’m hungry, I’m craving, and this food 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. –

(sent to me by Hellen, my Canadian friend. Vielen dank!)

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