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Twas the week after Christmas, and all through the house


Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse. 


The cookies I'd nibble, the eggnog I'd taste


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 rared...

 

The wine and the rumballs, 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