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‘Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house, nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.

The cookies I’d nibbled, the fudge I did taste, all 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 remembered the marvelous meals I’d prepared, the gravies and sauces and beef nicely rare.

The pies and the cakes, the bread and the cheese, and the way I 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 the 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!

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