Dear Lord, please give me . . .
A few friends who understand me
and yet remain my friends
A work to do which has real value,
without which the world
would feel the poorer . . .
A mind unafraid to travel,
even though the trail be not blazed
An understanding heart . . .
A sense of humor.
Time for quiet, silent meditation.
A feeling of the presence of God.
And the patience to wait
for the coming of these things,
with the wisdom to know them
when they come.
Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I'd nibbled, the eggnog I would 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 it was less a walk than a lumber.
I remembered the marvelous meals I'd prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rare,
The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese
And the way I'd never said, "None for me, 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 only I can
"You can't spend another winter disguised as a man!"
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
Till all the additional ounces have vanished.
I won't have a cookie -- not even a lick.
I'll chew only on long celery sticks.
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 January is for?
Unable to giggle, life's no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!