Jump to content
The Best Crafts Forums in the UK
Sign in to follow this  
Flee

Was The Month After Christmas ......................

Recommended Posts

Was the month after Christmas and all through the house, nothing would fit her, not even a blouse.

The stuffing she'd nibbled, the turkey she'd taste, the yummies she'd eaten had gone straight to her waist.

The wine and the mince pies, the bread and the cheese she should have just said, "no thank you, please."

So as she dressed herself in her husbands old shirt, she couldn't believe her bottom and belly the girth!

She said to herself, as only she 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 she likes must be banished 'til all the additional ounces have vanished.

She won't have a cookie, not even a lick, instead she'll chew on a long celery stick.

She won't have Irish coffees, or chocolates, or pie she'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'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)

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
Sign in to follow this  

×