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