In honor of the exciting new year opening up before us, I’d like to print the audaciously appropriate poem below.
It’s been around a while in various forms and unfortunately, the author is unknown – I sure with she would step forward and receive accolades for her genius.
And genius it is.
The gold standard of an exceptional poem is that it has the reader nodding or weeping or laughing in reaction. This poem does all those things for me. The author truly understands my 10-extra-pounds angst all too well after our 10-day anniversary cruise in Sept. followed by the holidays. Blech. I feel like the Michelin Man looks.
Kudos to “Author Unknown” wherever you are!
T’was the month after Christmas,
and all through the house,
nothing would fit me,
not even a blouse.
The cookies I’d nibbled,
the chocolate 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 dips and the meatballs, the bread and the cheese
and the way I’d never said, “No thank you, please.”
As I dressed myself and struggled to zip
the skirt that was gaping askew on my hip,
I said to myself, as only I can,
“You can’t spend a winter as wide as a van!”
So away wih the last of the sour cream dip.
Get rid of the fruitcake, each cracker and chip.
Every last 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 chew only on this here green celery stick.
I won’t have hot biscuits or cornbread 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.