Ah, the New Year. The time when we all look forward to turning the page on the calendar and say things like, “This year is going to be my year.” And then—two weeks later—you find yourself face down in a bag of chips, binge-watching Netflix. But hey, that’s part of the journey, right?
Last year, I set out with the noble goal of giving up soda. I figured, “How hard could it be? Everyone’s doing it. Just a little more water, a little less bubbly sugar water.” Spoiler alert: I lasted a whole two days. Two. I wish I could say I was sipping green tea and feeling zen, but no, on day three, I cracked. I needed that fizz.
You see, giving up soda wasn’t just about health; it was about saying goodbye to that familiar, sweet, carbonated comfort. But apparently, my love for fizz runs deeper than I realized. I could practically hear the soda can calling me, “Come back to me… I’m only 160 calories of liquid joy.”
And then there was the year before that. I swore I would go for a walk every single day. Every. Single. Day. I started off strong, my shoes hitting the pavement, my heart full of ambition. Then the weather turned, and I realized what a terrible idea it was to try and walk through a blizzard. Or a thunderstorm. Or a tornado (thankfully, it was just the wind). I quickly adjusted my goal to “walk five days a week.” Which, you know, was still quite the challenge considering I have an uncanny ability to stay cozy inside and convince myself that my mental health needs me to stay under the blanket.
This year? I’ve decided to go big again. I’ll be honest, I’m already tired just thinking about it. But here it is: I’m going to eat healthier. Yes, you heard me right. I’ll eat more vegetables, drink more water, and even consider the possibility of cooking meals that don’t come from a microwave. I know, I know—big talk. But hear me out. I have a fridge full of kale (as a reminder of my good intentions), and the freezer has some frozen chicken that could be cooked into something nutritious, if only I could be bothered to take it out before 8 PM.
But the real goal? I think it’s to embrace the inevitable moments of failure with grace. Last year, I judged myself for cracking under pressure (specifically, the pressure of opening a bottle of soda), but this year, I’m going to give myself some leeway. If I fail, I’ll just give it another shot. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but definitely… next Monday.
So here’s to the New Year: the year I will try to drink more water, take more walks (especially when it’s sunny), and maybe even finish an entire salad. Or not. Who’s counting?