Happy New Year ?

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 chocolate 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 marvellous 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 only chew on a 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.