the after christmas weigh in
a poem by the
Weight Watchers of philadelphia
I weighed myself today...
Oh please don't ask me why
On the scale, that I tried to avoid, nonetheless!
I wasn't surprised...But defiant.
Six pounds? Six weeks? No Way!
The number on that scale was just wrong.
When I'm "good"? eating well! all year? every day?
Even Santa would not go along.
The scale--one of the old ones,
Not as accurate as today's.
Move one way or the another,
And ounces and pounds go away.
So I leaned and I lifted, one foot then the other,
Like an acrobat, on a rope!
I kicked the darn thing, heard the Six say, "oh brother!"
Then simply stared back and said "nope".
It's real--6 pounds. I've earned eating
Lots of fruitcake, I didn't like.
And too many glasses of bad tasting punch,
That I knew the whole time was rum-spiked.
Six turns to sixty...and it happens fast.
I've seen that happen before ...
So I'm stopping it in its tracks--right NOW
Before six gets to twenty-four!