Ode to comfort food

(A repeat, with some revisions, of a regular January lament)

If summer came right after Christmas
how trim and fit I might be.
I’d eat berries for breakfast, salads for lunch
and then tackle un-trimming the tree.

I’d pull on my gym shorts and sneakers
and off I’d go for a run.
All those leftover holiday cookies
would be so much easier to shun.

Yes, if summer came right after Christmas
how good my body would look.
For I’d be outside burning calories
‘stead of inside reading a book.

I’d sweat while tilling the garden.
In the evening I’d go for a walk.
My exercise plan would be real.
In winter, I’m nothing but talk.

If summer came right after Christmas
there’d be no need for me to fulfill
my instinct to add all his blubber
to stave off winter’s chill.

Getting fat would be out of the question.
I’d follow a diet to the letter.
For I wouldn’t be able to hide
my girth ‘neath a bulky sweater.

Summer coming right after Christmas
is exactly how things would be
if I were in charge of the seasons,
if all this were up to me.

But the gods had another idea which
to my waistline has not been kind.
Christmas ushers in winter
and a different state of mind.

A nice healthy salad for dinner
when temps are in the teens?
I’m sorry, this isn’t the season
to fuel my body with greens.

I need calories to face Old Man Winter.
A full belly to keep me warm.
A big plate of pancakes and sausage
helps me weather a January storm.

Yes, my trousers are growing tighter,
and my abs are hidden by fat.
But in winter that just doesn’t matter.
Beef stew is where it’s at.

Ed Ackerman