Twas The Month After Christmas!

Santa Claus Measuring Fat Belly

Twas the Month After Christmas by P. Feys

Twas the month after Christmas and all through the house
Nothing could fit me, not even a blouse.

The cookies I’d nibbled, the chocolate I’d tasted
At 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 remembered the marvelous meals I’d prepared;
The gravies, the sauces and beef nicely rared,

The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese
And the way I never said, “No thank you, please”.

As I dress myself in my husbands old shirt
And prepared once again to battle with girth…

I said to myself as only I can,
“You can’t spend all winter disguised as a man!”

So away with the last of the sour cream dip.
Get rid of the fruitcake, every cracker and chip.

Every last bit of food that I like must be banished.
Until all additional ounces have vanished

I wont have a cookie, not even a lick.
I’ll want only to chew on a long celery stick

I won’t have hot biscuits, a 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!