A seasonal message

This is only too appropriate for this time of year.

Month 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 eggnot ’d taste At the holiday parties had gone my waist. When I got on the scale there arose such 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 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 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’s for? Unable to giggle, no longer a riot, Happy New Year to all, and to all a good diet.

— Author unknown

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