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 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 more 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, but 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.
Here’s wishing you all a very good diet!

Author Unknown

 

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One Response to Twas The Month After Christmas

  1. John Hall says:

    Love the poetry!

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