31
Dec

The Week After Christmas

Twas the week after Christmas, and all through the house

Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.

The cookies Id nibbled, the eggnog Id 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 lumber).



Id remember the marvelous meals Id prepared;

The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,



The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese

And the way Id never said, No thank you, please.



As I dressed myself in my husbands old shirt

And prepared once again to do battle with dirt—



I said to myself, as I only can

You cant 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 wont have a cookie–not even a lick.

Ill want only to chew on a long celery stick.



I wont have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie,

Ill munch on a carrot and quietly cry.



Im hungry, Im 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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