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My birthday is the day after New Year’s Eve, and last year, I spent it sitting alone in front of a fire while eating a steak and watching a Red Wings game. While part of me was like, “this is fucking awesome and I could do exactly this for the rest of my life,” the other part of me craved the old “me.” You know, the “me” who wants to go out and hammer sake until I brown out and try making out with one of my friend’s sisters or something.
However, the biggest issue with having a birthday immediately following New Year’s Eve is that people are coming down from the shock-and-awe holiday bender that they just put themselves through. Partying and celebrating are the last things on anyone’s mind. Your pants don’t fit well, your bank account is staring zero right in the face, and you have to dive back into the real world during the most bitter days of winter. Such terrifying thoughts breed fake responsibility in the form of New Year’s resolutions, which cause everyone to suck for the earlier part of January. And the most frustrating part about these New Year’s resolutions? No one ever sticks to them.
“I’m going to start working out.”
When you walk into the gym during the first week of the year, the place is an absolute FREAKFEST. The most basic, bottom-line New Year’s resolution is to start working out more. You can hashtag #FitFam, #FreshStart, and #RiseAndGrind all you want, but old habits die hard. And by “old habits,” I mean being a lazy shithead who manages to drink half a bottle of wine every night until Memorial Day, when your summer bender starts again. Gearing up in the winter is hard enough as it is, but it’s a hell of a lot more arduous when you do it just to go run three miles on a treadmill and wear yourself out.
“I’m going to put my career first.”
Ah, new year, new you, right? Wrong. You can reorganize your desk, primp your résumé, and work through lunch if you want, but your dead end, cube-monkey job will eventually wear you down. I mean, I apologize for that truth bomb, but it’s just science. If you’re not going through your twenties unsatisfied with your unfulfilling job, are you even a real person?
“I’m going to eat healthier.”
You know those people who sit atop their healthy high horse all week, eating kale salads and drinking kombuchas, only to have the five o’clock hour hit on Friday where they drink 50 beers and survive purely off pizza until Monday morning? Well, I’m one of those people. The weekly tradition of trying to be as healthy as possible amplifies itself at the end of every year, culminating with a New Year’s resolution of making it a full-time gig. And while it’s easy to not indulge immediately after the holidays (since you’ve ingested everything from honey-baked ham to spiked eggnog) you start getting the unhealthy itch about two weeks into the new year and your plan goes to hell.
“I’m going to quit smoking.”
Post-2 a.m. cigarettes that you bummed off your one smoker friend don’t count, right?
“I’m going to go out less.”
On January 1, 2013, I spent the entire day at a bar with friends drinking Dark and Stormies with shots of Fireball sprinkled in about every half-hour. At one point, the waitress came over with a pitcher of water and said, “You guys can’t have anymore Fireball until you finish this pitcher of water.” My friend kindly grabbed the pitcher and poured it onto the ground, remarking, “alright, done,” upon completion.
When I woke up on January 2, I gave myself the whole “I’m never going out again” spiel. I spent the next two weeks huddled on my couch watching Netflix and drinking lemon-waters. But then a wrench got thrown into my plan in the form of a long Martin Luther King, Jr. Day ski weekend. My half-ass “not going out ever again” resolution took a huge body blow early in the first round. The sad thing is, I didn’t even care, because fighting the inevitable is just a battle you’re not going to win.
“I’m not going to sweat the small stuff.”
Yeah, it’s easy to eliminate the drama from your life until you’re in the comedown phase of your Martin Luther King, Jr. ski trip and the wave of Sunday Scaries hits you like a ton of fucking bricks..
List + funny explanations= win. I don’t actually have to pay attention, but I don’t feel like a buzzfeeder either. Also, f*ck all of you who are going to crowd the gym in January. Bring on the downvotes fatties!
You mock people for being fat, but hate them for going to the gym and trying to better themselves because it makes it a little more inconvenient for you to get your swoll on? Why don’t you go for a run, champ. In traffic.
If they were dedicated to being in shape they’d be there all year and I’d be friends with them/support them regardless of their shape. I’m not mocking fat people getting in shape, I’m mocking pussies who lack dedication, sounds like you’re one of them, you sit on that bench and text for 20 minutes!
Pointing out the inconsistencies in your comment makes me a fat pussy? Good to know.
Can you guys cyberbully each other on someone else’s piece? Really stealing my thunder right now.
Aren’t we getting you traffic? Kieran being a dick will end up getting you a promotion. Also, the more I have to click on this article to reply, the more calories I burn. I can keep my New Years resolution without hogging the bench. We all win.
Sorry, just realized I’m drunk and maybe being a dick. Kieran, fuck you still.
Sorry boss I’d delete it, if Grandex would let me.
Because the resolutioners are the type of gym goers that sit on or stand in front of weights they aren’t using or don’t re-rack weights. Or if you’re a Crossfitter, they’ve changed out your bar and started using it while you were gone on an 800 m run or 500 m row.
#stopcrossfit
#stopmanboobsandfupas