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The Week after Christmas

‘Twas the week after Christmas, and all through the house,

Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.

The cookies I’d nibbled, the eggnog I’d taste,

All the holiday parties had gone to my waist.

When I got on the scales there arose such a number!

I should walk a mile, but my choice was to slumber.

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I’d remember the marvelous meals I’d prepared,

The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared.

The champagne and red wine, the crackers and cheese,

And the way I’d never said, “No thank you, please.”

As I dressed myself in my extra large T-shirt,

I said to myself, “You can’t even fit in your mini-skirt!”

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 only chew on a long celery stick.

I won’t have hot biscuits, garlic bread or pie,

I’ll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.

I’m hungry, I’m thirsty 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!

Compiled by Beverly Taki

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The Malibu Times is the first newspaper in Malibu, serving the community since 1946.

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