Twas the month after Christmas

Twas the month after Christmas and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The oysters I'd swallowed, the foie gras I'd taste,
The chocolates 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 any eggnog, or nougat or pie,
I'll munch on a carrot and quietly I'll sigh:
"I'm hungry, I'm lonesome and life is a bore"-
But isn't that what January is for?
So with a grin and a shrug, let me just cry it:
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!