Happy New Year

The month after Christmas ( to the tune of T'was the Night Before Christmas)

'Twas the month after Christmas and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The stuffing I'd nibbled, the turkey I'd taste
The yummies I'd eaten gone straight to my waist.
The wine and the mince pies, the bread and the cheese
I should have just said, "No thank you, please".
So as I dressed myself in my husband's old shirt,
I couldn't believe my bottom and belly - the girth!
I said to myself, as only I can,
"You can't spend the year disguised as a man!"
So away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of the fruitcake, every cracker and chip.
Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
'Til all the additional ounces have vanished.
I won't have a cookie, not even a lick.
Instead I'll chew on a long celery stick.
I won't have Irish coffees, or chocolates or pie,
I'll munch on a carrot and quietly I'll cry,
"I'm hungry, I'm lonesome, and life is a bore
But isn't that what January's for?"
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot,
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!

For those affected by this poem you can call the special diet
helpline on the following number: 808080028
(Ate Nothing, Ate Nothing, Ate Nothing, Nothing to Ate).