The Month After Xmas

	  Twas the month after Xmas, and all through the house
	  Nothing 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 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 a 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
	  "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 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!

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