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 tasted, all 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 rare… 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 battle the dirt… I said to myself, as I only can “You can’t spend a winter dressed like 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 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 cornbread, 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 Years to All and to All a Good Diet!
I hope you enjoyed this bit of whimsy.
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