A Time for New Beginnings
'Twas the week after Christmas, and all through my room, nothing would fit me, not even fruit of the loom. The cookies I'd nibble, the eggnog I'd taste, all 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 and the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please." As I dressed myself in my old cardinal’s shirt and prepared once again to battle the dirt. I said to myself, as I only can, "You can't spend a winter dressed like a fan!" So away with the last of the sour cream dip, get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip. Every last bit of food that I like must be banished, until all the additional ounces have vanished. I won't have a cookie, not even a lick. I'll want only to chew on a lon...