Cheers to Resolutions

As far as last year’s resolutions went, there was never a truer intention of fulfilling the unattainable dream. Yet, by mid-January, those intentions had all but flown out the window. I kicked myself; I should have known setting such things would only lead to misery. It’s just a diligently practiced act, consistently attended from one year to another, anyway.

I settle amongst the pillows on the couch, glass of wine in one hand, Doritos in the other. Comfort food for the soul, I call it. But I knew it would be my undoing, dismissively brushing it off as tomorrow’s problem. The issue is, though, that tomorrow never comes.

It’s only that one time every year that I ever honestly think about a fresh start. The opportunity always beckoning, encouraging me forward. And I started, like always. But the other problem is having the motivation to keep going. To fight for the unattainable dream.

This year will be different. I’ve been psyching myself for this since July.

Dear Collaborators

I am writing this memo to inform you about some changes to our partnership.

1.     To the chocolate that melts on my tongue, sweet and gooey, with your caramel centre. This year, I will stop at one… or maybe two. But that’s it then, no more. I will reserve you only for the most crucial of moments. In case of potential rampages during ‘that’ time of the month.

2.     To my trusty bag of chips, so salty and full of flavour. I’ll miss your effervescent crunch, and the tingle on my tongue, savouring your vinegar-y goodness. This year, I will leave you be, swapping cholesterol laden deep-fried potato, for healthier carbs, like your cousin’s lentil and brown rice.

3.     Coffee-what can I say? My truest friend, there for me every morning when I wake, and every afternoon when I need a little jolt. You alone are safe; however, we need to farewell your comrade’s milk and sugar. I know you’ll be lonely. I’ll feel it too. How I’ll stomach you without them is yet to be determined. But I can’t do this without you by my side.

4.     And my frenemy, wine. It’s rare that we share a precious moment, anyway, but this year you’re off my Christmas card list. Maybe we’ll see each other again at a wedding or a funeral, and maybe we won’t. Time will tell.

5.     To my steadfast gym membership, who’s patiently sat at the bottom of my bag. Gathering dust amongst the pens and gum wrappers. I’ve got something special in mind for you. This year, we’re reuniting, like that second chance romance on my bedside table. Let’s fall in love with working out again. I know my heart and abdomen will be pleased to see our reunion, even if my lungs are reluctant at first. Once we’re fitting into the svelte denim jeans, we’ll hit the town. Maybe I’ll even decide to date again. Maybe.  

6.     Speaking of lungs; tobacco, you’re also on the chopping block. I long dream of taking in a deep breath without feeling that tight hug around my heart, nor the aftermath of your familiar wheezy cough. It’ll be a tough gig letting you go. In fact, my brain is already telling anxiety to manipulate me. She keeps reminding me of the pleasure you bring. That first drag of the day, dancing on my breath, but my purse strings also need a break from your gold-digging ways. I know it’s not your fault; the government is to blame, but I will put that cash to better use. You’ll see.

7.     To my digital scales, sitting in the bathroom, dusty and unloved. Despite our past love-hate relationship, this year I vow to renew our friendship. Unlike last time, I can’t see you every day. Certainly not multiple times per day, as we did before. We’ll set boundaries, limiting our encounters to weekly. As they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Wait and see.  

8.     Mirror, mirror, on the wall, you’ve never told me I was fairest of them all. In fact, you’re one of the mean girls. Passive aggressive with your tempered lighting, pointing out each flaw as if I were a monster. You forget, though; you’re nothing without me reflecting on your surface. Without me, you’re just a piece of glass. This year, my resilience will prevail; you will not discourage me.

9.     Water – you come from many sources, flourishing life wherever you go, including my kitchen faucet. Until now, you’ve been second rate, used to boil the kettle, and shower. But you’re better than that. You’re important; my life depends on you. So, this year you’re getting a makeover. You’ll wear the fanciest coloured bottles, reminding me to indulge in your gloriousness frequently throughout the day. We’ll even tint your flavour with cold brew tea bags, cucumber, and mint. I’m excited, but for the waterworks; I’ll need to get cracking on those Kegels.

10.  To the unsung heroes of the grocery store-the humble vegetable. No longer will you sit at the bottom of the fridge, scarcely eaten, then left for dead. This year you’ll be the centrepiece of the kitchen, the showpiece at dinner parties. Let’s give those carnivores a run for their money. We’ll spice you up.

Now, my friends, I know some of you find change difficult, but I urge you all to look at the bigger picture. It’s a time to reset, to start again. Be healthier and happier than ever before. Don’t think of this as ‘goodbye’, but ‘see you later’.  

Take care.

Management.

And with that, the clock on the television counts down to the New Year.

The year for change, for growth, a new mindset. I must at least try, or I’ll just eat my way through another twelve months, getting more obese, growing more addicted, becoming more socially isolated.

What kind of life is that?

Five, four, three, two, one. Midnight.

I raise my glass. Here’s to the year ahead; filled with hope, love, happiness, and success in fulfilling the unattainable dream. Cheers to us, and the endless possibilities that await.

Cheers to 2024.