T'was The Diet After Christmas

T'was the day after Christmas, and all through the house
Not a darn thing 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 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 that I'd never said, 'No thank you, please.'

As I dressed myself up, in my husband's old shirt,
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt
I said to myself, (as only I can),
'You can't spend the winter disguised as a man!'

So, away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of the fruit cake, each cracker, and chip,
Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
'til all the unwanted ounces have vanished!

I won't have a cookie, not even a lick...
I'll just have to 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!

(I got this in an email from one of my best friends. It made me laugh at myself a little and prepare for the real battle ahead! Thanks Teri!)