'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 did taste
The yummies I'd eaten gone straight to my waist.
The wine and mince pies, the bread and the cheese
I should just have said, "No thank you, please."
So as I dress myself in my boyfriend's old shirt,
I can't believe my belly - look at the girth!
I say 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 ice cream, 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 exactly what January is for?"
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot,
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!