'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 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 the whole 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
I've put on 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!

At least my husband has the WHOLE next week off! Yippee. Now to clean the garage and park in it again. I'll post Christmas photos soon.