To all of you out there who share this experience with us: :zpop:
Twas 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 marvellous 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.
Love,Duckduck
.