Well, we’re
now three weeks into the New Year and I’m sure you’re all well into your new clean
living/gym bashing/teetotaller/good deeds alter egos.
Some of you
are probably even halfway to sainthood, and even those who aren’t must surely
be earning a vote of thanks from your arteries/livers/pet charities.
What you
mean? “Umm. No.”?
What kind of an answer is that?
Where are the non-resolutionists of the world (Yours Truly included) supposed to seek inspiration and the occasional guilt trip?
What kind of an answer is that?
Where are the non-resolutionists of the world (Yours Truly included) supposed to seek inspiration and the occasional guilt trip?
What
happened that smug smirk and self-congratulatory predictions of being “practically
perfect” in every way by Midsummer’s Day?
Oh yeah. I
know. Life got in the way.
It has a habit of doing that, doesn’t it?
It has a habit of doing that, doesn’t it?
One of the
up-sides of being what even the kindest of people can't deny is middle-aged, is that I've managed to learn a lesson or two from life. And the biggest one
is that, yes, it does tend to get in the way of our best laid plans.
That's why I don't 'do' resolutions.
For the
first couple of weeks of the year, every year, I’m surrounded by friends,
families and annoying acquaintances hurtling head-long on the “New! Improved!”
resolutions highway, loudly tooting their special horns announcing their determination
and good intentions to the world). But by the time February’s closer than last
December, they’ve usually gone VERY quiet, and tend to change the subject
when asked how their plans are going.
January is
the absolute worst time to reinvent yourself, jettison bad habits or adopt new good ones.
Joining the
News Year’s Resolution bandwagon is just arbitrary.
More to the point, it’s a
sure-fire recipe for failure.
I’ve been
there. I’ve done that. I’ve got the ironic t-shirt.
I’ve jumped
on the wagon for Dry January (post-holiday blues, dwindling funds, miserable
weather and depressing anniversaries soon had me seeking solace in the warm
inviting embrace of a fruity Merlot).
I’ve announced to the world my plan to get
fit and maybe be Marathon-ready by November (a failure to ‘Mind The Gap’ on the
Underground and a visit to my local friendly A&E Department put paid to
that).
I’ve even signed up with gusto and enthusiasm for NaNoWriMo (not a
single solitary word was writ).
Don’t
get me wrong. I’m not lacking in grit and determination. I’ve successfully
kicked the baccy habit. I’ve banished meat. I’ve even managed to say goodbye to
20 kilos or more with a little help from the gym.
I just didn’t
stage the equivalent of a West End of Broadway production when I did it. Nor did I start on a special day decided by the Powers That Be (whoever they may be), just like I’m not gonna love His
Nibs Indoors that much more than I do today come 14 February.
I just made the decision, when it felt right and I felt ready, and I did it.
That's why you haven't seen (and you won't be seeing) any resolutions from me.
But, with luck and when you're least expecting it, you might just see results.
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