My 2017 New Year Resolutions

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A New Year, a new me. I can see it already.

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Except... I am old. I am set in my ways. Frankly readers, despite two weeks of Christmas holiday, I am still fucking exhausted. I do not and will never have the The Glow.

Instead of total personality transplant, this new year I will aim for Slightly Improved but Nonetheless Recognisably Foible-Laden me. Too vague? Let's aim for 30% Less Dreadful on any Given Day, Except When I've Not Slept Very Well.

Less catchy, but there we are. To the resolutions!


#1: Learn how to use the weight machines at my gym

The last year has seen a remarkable change in my physique and general wellbeing. And no, not as per the usual*. 

The secret to my new-found comfort in skinny jeans? Going to the gym semi-regularly and a Hemsley-esque courgette fixation. GROUNDBREAKING!

 Post-workout protein shake

Post-workout protein shake

The one element of insufferability I've yet to get to grips with is 'resistance training', largely because I have the muscle density of Yzma from The Emperor's New Groove. This year I will sneak into the gym earlier than usual and figure out a weight routine without fear of embarrassment.

* Cheesecake-induced deterioration


#2: Only worry about things I stand a chance of fixing

Twice this year I found myself hunched over a mobile phone at 4am, stomach plunging at the brutal realisation of a calamity I didn't or couldn’t vote for.

But crossing my fingers before opening Twitter was never going to prevent Brexit. Forcing myself through 6 months of increasingly histrionic Today programmes had little to no bearing on the US presidential election. No more.

 I've not got those piggy little eyes quite right yet

I've not got those piggy little eyes quite right yet

This year I will reserve my limited energies for the winnable battles: namely driving squirrels out of south-east London and figuring out who keeps flytipping nappies into my wheelie bin.


#3: Stop spending so much money in Wholefoods

Once upon a time I was content to buy my almond milk in confused dreams where I actually bought almond milk. That was before it happened. The chance encounter that changed my life and fridge alike.

Wholefoods. A magical emporium where egg yolks are the shade of boxed macaroni and boxed macaroni doesn't exist. Oh to be there now, sampling cacao nibs like there’s no tomorrow.

For the last two years this store has steadily eaten its way through the part of my brain that had something to do with credit card limits and prudence, generally. Now no weekend is complete without a reckless perusal of its ‘cold-pressed’ popcorn. No recipe is beyond improvement with an intriguingly labelled tub of ‘freshly ground’ nut paste. I BUY MILK FROM ALMONDS LIKE THIS IS A NORMAL THING TO DO.

Wholefoods is why I can’t afford a house. Wholefoods must be stopped.


#4: Investigate and expose a well-known YouTuber

Tanya Burr’s Creme Egg addiction? Zoella’s illegal pug-breeding experiments? Marcus Butler’s toupee? At least one of these inexplicably monied fuckers must be hiding something and this year I will not rest until I BRING ONE OR MORE OF THEM DOWN.


#5: Aim for at least one positive workplace interaction a day

“HELLO.” “YES THE WEEKEND WAS GOOD THANK YOU.” “NO I DID NOT READ YOUR E-MAIL.” “WHY WON’T THE WATER BOIL FASTER.” “I DO NOT HAVE CAPACITY THIS MONTH.”

Just some of my usual go-to pleasantries that have so endeared me to various co-workers who no longer talk to me.

Nobody enjoys polite small talk, sure, but I sense the time has come to at least give it a go.

“AND HOW WAS YOUR WHOLEFOODS? WEEKEND. I SAID WEEKEND.”


#6: Revisit that ‘30 things to do in the 3 years before 30’ list I wrote 2.5 years ago


#7: Write every single bloody day

Believe it or not, I already bash out the equivalent wordcount of a longish short story every day.

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For some reason I don't find much of it creatively challenging.

These is every chance this particular resolution will grind to a miserable halt later this month. There is a high likelihood my generally peaceable boyfriend will end up so infuriated that I end up without both MacBook and use of my hands by January 31. But hey, assuming I can churn out a post at least two-dozen times over the course of 2017 that’s already double my feeble output last year.

Boom! 30% less dreadful, here I come.