THE MONTH AFTER CHRISTMAS
It was 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 than a walk than a lumber).
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.
