It’s January 5th and I’m probably supposed to be deep into my own list of resolutions right now, but as a woman of limited perseverance I find myself unable to commit to any big proclamations requiring more than a casual nod or the blow-off text message “we should get together sometime soon”.
Resolutions have never been high on my list of things to commit to in January. My January list is less of an actual list, and more of a life choice to be wrapped in blankets watching a Just For You Netflix marathon of ‘movies featuring redheads’ or ‘films about peanut allergies’. January is the most ridiculous time to make a life plan for the year. Worried that your spirit will be crushed in the next 2 months of oppressively cold weather? Eating less chocolate and hauling your Costco-sized-holiday-party-dainty-tray tooled body to the gym will probably be the metaphysical nail in the coffin of your poor frozen soul.
January is teeming with debt, family get-together hangovers and gift receipts. Where I live it is also cold. Cold where you shake your glacial nipples out of your shirt at the end of the day like a bag of frozen peas. Cold that gives you the dexterity of a sloth wearing boxing gloves when all you want to do is use your keys to open the door. Cold that proves there is a God and she’s vacationing in Cuba like all the smart people are. This is not the kind of cold weather that invokes images of a brisk run outside or 20 minutes warming up your car to get to the gym. January is the time to make your layers work for you. You built them up for a reason…it would be a shame to get rid of them when you need them the most.
If you’re headed to the gym in a flurry of New Year New You excitement, I support your bold choices. Please understand though that when I send you a text along the lines of “we should totally meet up at the gym sometime soon” and dive back into my nest of Doritos and the David Caruso straight-to-video thriller “Anaphylaxis”, it’s not you, it’s me.
