So, the presents are all unwrapped, some even returned and exchanged already. The leftover turkey is starting to turn a funny color and let off an unpleasant odor, and (since nobody has eaten any in the last couple of days anyway) it is quickly headed for the garbage. The toys have long since been torn from the boxes and had their initial use…and some already seem to have outlived a child’s interest in them, and so they’ll go into a box labeled “toys-we-seldom-play-with”. The Christmas tree is still up, and no matter what we try, un-decorating the tree is never going to be anything other than a chore that nobody really wants to do.
The Month After Christmas
Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I did nibble, the eggnog I did taste
Now all of it had gone to my waist.
When I got on the scale, there arose such a number!
When I walked through the house (less a walk than a lumber).
I remember the marvelous meals I’d prepare;
The gravies and sauces and beef (nicely rare),
The peanut-butter 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 tastes good) 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!
(edited from steven simila grant)
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