The cookies I’d nibbled, the eggnog I’d taste,
At the holiday 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 and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese,
<!– D(["mb","And the way I'd never said, "No thank you, \nplease."

As I \ndressed myself in my husband's old \nshirt,
And \nprepared once again to do battle with \ndirt.

I said \nto myself, as I only can,
"You can't spend a winter disguised as a \nman!"

So--away with the last of the sour cream dip, \n
Get rid of the \nfruit cake, every cracker and chip.

Every last bit of food that I like must be \nbanished,
'Till \nall the additional ounces have vanished. \n

I won't have \na cookie--not even a lick,
I'll want only to chew on a long celery stick. \n

I won't have \nhot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie,
I'll munch on a carrot and quietly \ncry.

I'm \nhungry, I'm lonesome, and life is a \nbore,
But isn't \nthat what January is for?