New Year, Old You

Happy New Year!  Now's the time to list all the things you hate about yourself and swear to God you will be an entirely new, perfect version of yourself come this time next year.  Good luck to ya'.

As I have said previously, resolutions annoy me with their implied self-hatred.  Plans to eat less, drink less, spend less, exercise, quite smoking,  give more to charity, finally read War and Peace, while all admirable goals, are rarely listed singly.  I  applaud any effort to improve one's life and health, yet I find it depressing to hear people lump several, if not all, of these goals together to create an impossibly perfect version of themselves - basically trying to turn themselves into a whole new person.  

I take a different view of things.  Unless you are a homeless, friendless derelict, who is either an alcoholic or drug user, you must have some people who like you pretty much the way you are, give or take a few peccadilloes (and do you really want me to stop dancing to Beyonce in the kitchen, H?  I think not).  So why not, this New Year, make peace with who you are and unless a major life change is necessary, say you are, in fact, drowning in debt, or you are still smoking (ahem, Dad), even socially, (ahem, B), or really do need to lose a significant amount of weight, chose a resolution that affirms you kind of have your act together.  

For example, the ever-popular resolution of losing weight among the within-normal-weight-limit population is getting kind of old.  Sure, we could all lose five pounds and fit into really small jeans by following a careful, healthy, eating plan, but then I would never go out to dinner with you again because Dressing on the Side Girl is annoying and she probably doesn't drink either.  Instead, pick something that seems rather insignificant, but is actually life-changing.

Ten years ago, my resolution was to start  flossing every day.  Lame?  You betcha.  Am I still doing it?  Yep.  This year I have set the bar especially high and have chosen TWO equally lame goals.  First, to take a calcium supplement every day and not just for  the two weeks after my annual OB/GYN appointment when I see pamphlets for bone density scans strewn all over the office.  I wasn't that great about taking one during my three pregnancies, or when nursing, since apparently physically making milk wasn't reminder enough and I'm sure my bones look like swiss cheese.  Dowager's hump?  Not cool.  Second goal?  To stretch every day.  Since the end of my workout each morning consists of me sprinting up the basement stairs covered in sweat to jump in the shower and start making breakfasts and packing lunches, there's not much time for a cool down and flexibility training.  At the gym on my birthday I was shamed mightily by the fifty-something ladies around me (prime meat for you, Vlad, thongs and all) who were able to bend over and press their palms to the floor while I was stretching my arms out feebly trying to get my fingertips to touch.  One of my main motivators behind exercise is the whole "use it or lose it" theory and what good will my strong muscles be later in life if I can't life my arms above my head to get my pill bottles?

So, Happy New Year to you all.  Ignore all those magazine covers out there.  You are great just the way you are.  So go pick something you've been meaning to do for a while and stick to it.  Because, seriously, the odds are much higher of you successfully taking out the recycling every week (ahem, H), than giving sugar and white flour.  Life without donuts?  Not worth living.