‘Twas The Week After Christmas…

 

‘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 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 marvellous 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” but “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 white 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! 

 

My mum gave me this little poem a couple of years ago that she had cut from a newspaper.  Apparently a reader had sent it in but unfortunately it didn’t say who had written it.  Sums up the way a lot of people are feeling after Christmas I think!

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