Diva
Cambridge Diet Counsellor
One of my CD buddies from the States sent me this...
The Month after Christmas
The Month after Christmas
'Twas the Month after Christmas, and all through the house,
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I'd nibble, 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!
Then 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,
And the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please."
As I dressed myself in my husband's old shirt,
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt---
I said to myself, as I only can,
"You can't spend the winter 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 those additional ounces have vanished.
I won't have a cookie -- not even a lick.
I'll want only to chew on a long celery stick.
I won't have hot biscuits, or corn bread, 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 February is for?
Now is THE time to Rid Fat Foods from the Fridge,
And get really serious with my CAMBRIDGE.
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I'd nibble, 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!
Then 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,
And the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please."
As I dressed myself in my husband's old shirt,
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt---
I said to myself, as I only can,
"You can't spend the winter 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 those additional ounces have vanished.
I won't have a cookie -- not even a lick.
I'll want only to chew on a long celery stick.
I won't have hot biscuits, or corn bread, 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 February is for?
Now is THE time to Rid Fat Foods from the Fridge,
And get really serious with my CAMBRIDGE.