Twas the month after christmas...
LOL i got this in a email i thought i'd share
T'was 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?
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all, and to all a good diet.
T'was 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?
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all, and to all a good diet.
