‘Twas the week after Christmas, all through the house,
not a thing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I’d nibbled, the eggnog I’d taste
at holiday parties had gone to my waist.
I remember marvelous meals all prepared,
the gravies and sauces, the beef nicely “rared.”
The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese,
the way that I NOT ONCE said, “No, thank you, please.”
Away with the last of the sour cream dip.
Get rid of the fruitcake, all crackers and chips.
Each bite of food that I like must be banished,
‘til all of the extra ounces have vanished.
I won’t have a cookie, not even a lick.
From now on, I’ll chew on a celery stick.
I won’t eat 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 laugh…no longer a riot,
Happy New Year to all, to all a good diet!
Sharon Canfield Dorsey