Twas the Week After Christmas

'Twas the week after Christmas, and all through the house Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.

The cookies I'd nibble, 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 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!