‘Twas the Month after Chanukah
Twas the month after Chanukah, and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I’d nibble, the latkas I’d taste
At Chanukah 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 marvelous meals I’d prepared
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,
The wine or the egg creams, 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 only I can
”You can’t spend the winter disguised as a man!”
So… away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of all chocolate, each 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 to chew only 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!