After Christmas

--Author Unknown

'Twas the week 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 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,
'Til 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!