A Poem for January
Posted: Fri Jan 20, 2006 9:55 pm
'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 the 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!
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)!
Sent to me by a friend - wonder what she trying to tell me heheheeee
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 the 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!
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)!
Sent to me by a friend - wonder what she trying to tell me heheheeee
