A Poem for January
'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 boyfriend'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!
The Editor
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