At the time of year when people are usually counting the resolutions they’ve already broken, Rosie Waterland ponders the ones she never made.
Yesterday I heard a couple of girls on the bus laughing about already having broken their New Year’s Resolutions. Their conversation revolved around dieting and was thus completely uninteresting to me, so naturally I stopped eavesdropping and started thinking about myself.
“Why didn’t I make any resolutions?” I thought, as a gazed out the window of the 426. “Surely there’s something in my life that could have benefited from a drunken, philosophical inventory of my existence just before midnight on New Year’s Eve.”
I definitely could have taken stock of what needed improving in my life. It’s not like I didn’t have the time – I spent the last night of the year watching TV and getting mad at my neighbours for selfishly having a party without any regard for those of us trying to sleep at 10pm.
So why didn’t I? It was only when the dieting girls who will never be happy got off the bus that it hit me:
Oh. That’s right. I didn’t make any New Year’s Resolutions because New Year’s Resolutions are stupid and I’m already awesome.
January was invented by greeting card companies, specifically designed to make us all feel bad about ourselves. You spend January thinking about all the things you’re doing wrong, and February thinking about all the things that you’re still doing wrong, with the added stench of failure at not having stopped doing any of those things wrong.
IT’S A CONSPIRACY, PEOPLE.
So here’s what I decided this year. I’m 28, and, like an old man’s wardrobe, my life habits are pretty much set in stone. It’s too late to change. How I be now is HOW I BE, damn it. And the sooner we all accept that we’re brilliant without any need for start-of-the-year adjustments, the happier we’ll all be.