Miss BeFit: ‘Twas the Fat Before Christmas

Twas the fat before Christmas, because all through the house
Not a person was exercising, nor leaving the couch.
The running shoes sat by the door ready to go,
In hopes that motivation would make us less slow


And 303 readers venture out with their well-dressed friends,
With visions of tonight’s parties dancing in their heads.
Our mouths are full of cookies, and fondue thicker than sap,
We’ll calculate how to burn it off down to the last lap.


But coming from the kitchen, O! that heav’nly clatter,
Our host waltzes out with cupcakes on a platter.
Away from the eggnog, I drop the ladle with a splash,
Send pepperoni flying and turn my potatoes to mash.


The freshly mixed frosting glints like new-fallen snow
The sugar sprinkles melt in my mouth and stick to my nose.
Then, what to my delight should I happ’ly hear,
A keg has arrived, full of Christmas beer.


With a careful balancing act, not a spilled crumb or a drip,
I take my treats to the table for a nibble and a sip.
More glorious than angels, my taste buds sing,
And they whistle, and shout and won’t let me miss a thing!


Now, crab dip! Now, fruit cake! Now, pastries with lemon!
On, meatballs! On, tartlets! On bonbons and bourbon!
Cover my plate! Fill up my glass!
Now feast away! Drink away! Feast away all!


As my empty plate forces my mouth to sigh,
I shake the powdered sugar from my sequins and look to the sky.
For in three days time, across the vast midnight blue,
A fellow snack-lover will fly, and munch on cookies too.


And after all his sleigh bells jingling and fumbling on the roof
He doesn’t lift weights, and around no track he will hoof.
He eats delicious Rudolphs, Frostys and gingerbread men without a sound,
Yet, we say naught about his belly so round.


Instead, we rave about his outfit of fur from head to foot,
And his patent leather boots, the color of ashes and soot.
Let us not forget those toys stuffed in his sack,
I’ll forgive him a slice of pie too, if he’ll bring me a Mac.


His eyes, how they’ll twinkle! His squishy cheeks, how merry!
He’ll sneak a second fudge brownie topped with a cherry!
The beard on his chin will hide what he doesn’t want to show,
That he’s salivating for all the delectable goodies spread out below.


The stump of a toothpick, I hold tight in my teeth,
It gives me something to chew on besides  a Rice Krispies wreath.
I think of Santa’s face and rather large belly,
That shook when he was merry, like a bowlful of jelly!


He’s chubby and plump, and probably the happiest elf,
So I’ll enjoy my candy and not feel bad about myself.
Cinnamon rolls ooze and candy canes turn tongues red,
I’m certain I’ll work out when the holiday season is dead.


I’ll make resolutions when I go back to work,
When I squeeze into my pants and button them with a jerk.
But remembering the delicious smells that filled my nose,
I’ll close my eyes and taste the memory of those!


I’ll spring to my workouts, with a timer and whistle,
When Santa has flown like the down of a thistle.
But I’ll hear him exclaim, while he holds on to his hat,
“Happy Christmas to all, and, for now, don’t worry about the fat!”

Adapted from ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore

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