Reader Fiona passed this poem onto us - she thought you'd all get a laugh out of it considering all the recent posts on post-Christmas diets and exercise. And it's definitely ringing a few (hundred) bells with me!
A Poem For January
'Twas the month after Christmas and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The stuffing I'd nibbled, the turkey I'd taste
The yummies I'd eaten gone straight to my waist.
The wine and mince pies,
The bread and the cheese
I should have just said, "No thank you, please."
So as I dressed myself in my boyfriend's old shirt,
I couldn't believe my bottom and belly- the girth!
I said to myself, as only I can,
"You can't spend the year disguised as a man!"
So away with the last of the sour-cream dip,
Get rid of the fruitcake, every cracker and chip.
Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
'Til all the additional ounces have vanished.
I won't have a cookie, not even a lick.
Instead I'll chew on a long celery stick.
I won't have Irish coffees, or chocolates, or pie,
I'll munch on a carrot and quietly I'll cry:
"I'm hungry, I'm lonesome, and life is a bore-
But isn't that what January's for?"
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot,
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!
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For those who are affected by this poem you can ring the special diet helpline on the following number: 808080028 (Ate Nothing, Ate Nothing, Ate Nothing, Nothing to Ate)!
