Twas The Month After Christmas, And All ...  PRO

‘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,...