
I recently came across a cute little rendition of a familiar poem...called 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 nibbled, the eggnog I'd taste at the holiday parties had gone to my waist
When I got on the scale, there arouse 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." Read More