post-christmas poem

‘Twas the week after Christmas and all through the house,
I wrestled and struggled to button my blouse;
I remembered the pies and the cookies and cakes,
with fondness, though I wish I had said, “No thanks.”
The Christmas festivities were all so much fun,
and I had to sample my cinnamon buns.
But then it was time to face my worst fear,
I held my breath and inched ever near;
I stepped on the scale and stifled a scream—
It was the biggest number I had ever seen!
Exhausted I lay down on top of my bed
while the children excitedly danced on my head.
“What’s wrong mama?” they shouted with impish grins,
as I crawled out of bed to find my sweatpants—again.
“Mom’s on a diet.” I explained to my kiddos,
“That means no more candy or cookies or fritos.”
“Not that!” They cried, “No more ice cream or fries?”
“Without all that stuff, we’re going to DIE!”
But it was already done, my grocery list was complete,
with fresh fruit and vegetables and weight watchers treats.
Twenty-five pounds, that is the goal;
Now somebody, please, hide that ice cream bowl!