Posts Tagged ‘New Years Resolutions’

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As I stated last year, I’m not big on New Year’s Resolutions.  I think they’re generally committed to under duress, or worse yet, under the influence of eggnog and sugar.  And since no judge in the world would be able to hold you accountable for any contracts drafted by the pen of Captain Morgan or Sara Lee, you’re really sort of left in a lurch, with nobody to answer to but your own sorry self.

2010 has been a difficult year sucked ass.  Between my nutso autoimmune disease and my pregnancy losses, my body has had more attention than I generally like for it to have.  And I have found no shortage of people who are chock-full of tips, hints and general advice.  There are only so many times that one person can say, “Yes, that might work.”  Or, “That’s one idea.”  Or, “Sure, give me his card.”  Or, “Please step away from me, kind sir.”

So with that being said (and with nothing more than oatmeal and a possibly-lethal amount of coffee in my system), I have decided to make a December 5th Resolution.  Starting right this minute, anybody who attempts to offer advice about my body¹ will be met with a loud chirping noise, followed by a flick between the eyes, followed by a kick in the ass.

So hear ye!  Hear ye!  Whether you are a friend or a foe; a doctor or a salesperson; a pirate, a poet or a pauper, consider yourself warned.  The non-existent suggestion box is officially closed for business, locked, chained and cast into the deepest depths of the Pacific Ocean.  Got it?  Chirp, flick, kick.  Or maybe flick, chirp, kick.  Or, depending on the obnoxiousness of the advice-giver, kick, kick, flick, flick, kick, chirp.  We’ll see.  The possibilities are endless.  The world is my oyster.  And I prefer my oysters served without a side of shitty advice.²

¹ ie: What my body does or doesn’t do; is or isn’t capable of; does or doesn’t look like; should or shouldn’t behave like, etc…

² Okay, I’m actually allergic to shellfish but let’s just pretend I’m not for the sake of bad analogies.

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I don’t believe in New Year’s Resolutions. I have made them in the past and they simply do not work. How many people buy memberships to their local gym on January 1st, fully intending to go every single day until they can fit back into their wedding dress/”skinny jeans”/car? Every gym in America has tumbleweeds rolling through it well before Valentine’s Day. Why?  Because there is no magic that takes place on January 1st that enables us to do what we could not do on December 31st. This year, I am not making New Year’s Resolutions. This year, I am making New Year’s Revelations.  Here are a few:

1. Weight cannot be lost under duress. Tread lightly on the fat. Do not take the fat’s name in vain. Try it and you will find that the fat will gather a posse and head straight for your hips. And it will be holding a package of King’s Hawaiian Rolls in one hand and a stick of butter in the other. I really would like to be svelte but I know that this is a project that I will not be starting on today. There is a lot of Christmas candy on clearance right now and I love a bargain. Maybe next week.

2. I have misspelled (or is it misspelt?) the word “Tonsillectomy” on every single medical history form that I have ever filled out. 2010 will be the year that I stop trying. “I had my tonsils out” will simply have to do. (And don’t ask me if I had my Adenoids out. You’re talking to the wrong person. A. I don’t know what the eff Adenoids are. B. I was so drugged up that I asked the nurse if I could take my tonsils home in a jar. For all I know I had a Prefrontal Lobotomy.)

3. I have come to the conclusion that many of my previous “resolutions” have really been more like “retributions.” ie: Who has done me wrong this year and how do I intend to make them pay? The fact of the matter is, most jerks seem pretty happy in their jerkish roles and don’t intend to change. Except for the Sociopaths. They’re elated in their jerkish roles and are unable to change. Either way, avoiding the whole motley crew of them is the best bet. That said, I see nothing wrong with secretly hoping that the day will come when they choose the wrong puppy to kick and end up being bitten in the ass.

4. While you’re at it you may as well also steer clear of Mötley Crüe. Between the Hepatitis, the constant feuding and the tighty whities, no good could possibly come from any sort of interaction with them.

5. My eyebrows have reached a stage where I am no longer able to care for them myself. I’d really like to see less “Bert” and more “Ernie” when I look in the mirror. (Minus the horizontal stripes. See #1.) Help must be employed. Ideally, said help will hail from an Eastern Bloc country. Those ladies know their stuff.

6. I could not love my friends or family more than I currently love them. And I tell them each and every time I talk to them. I give myself an A+ on this.  The only problem is that I say, “I love you” so often that I sometimes wind up accidentally telling other people that I love them. The truth is, I actually don’t love the Comcast guy/the medical scheduler/the wrong number caller. I mean, they’re alright but I don’t love them. There. I said it.

So, there are a few of my Revelations. I suggest that you make a list of your own. After you get home from the gym. And finish off that carton of Rocky Road.

Happy New Year!

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