Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house
 Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
 The cookies I'd nibbled, the eggnog I'd tasted
 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 rare,
 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
 'Til 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!