Saturday, January 1, 2011

Twas the Month after Christmas....


 A Woman's 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 chocolate 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?
_______________________________________________
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