I’ve never been much of a New Year’s Girl. I don’t go out to celebrate because, like Hef aptly noted, it’s kinda “Amateur Hour” and every asshole cretin has crawled out from under their rock and is getting sloshed and acting like a jerk. Besides, every time I’ve been out partying, it’s led to fighting, mayhem and destruction, so it’s one of those holidays that I deliberately stay inside and order pizza and try not to talk to anyone. It seems like a bad omen to be fighting with someone while I usher in the New Year, so my husband, The Daver, and I tend to try and not interact lest we jinx the year to come. And no, we’re actually NOT that superstitious. The year that we were fighting as the clock struck midnight, though, was probably the worst we’ve had so far, so take that as it is, and I’ll be sitting mute on my couch drinking champagne and smiling stupidly.
I am In A Rebirth Period
What annoys me more than the annoying frat boys getting wasted and puking on my lawn is the surge of people making resolutions for The New Year. Don’t get me wrong: I like resolutions. If you read my other blog, you know that I’m in a bit of a rebirth period right now (holy shit do I sound annoyingly new agey right now) and it has nothing to do with the end of the year. That’s just a coincidence, really. Resolutions are a good thing but they need to be made for the right reasons. You’re setting yourself up for failure if you’re all “I’m gonna become the next supermodel and drop 65 pounds by February 1st while I learn to produce gangsta rap albums.” There’s nothing like the bitter taste of failure to make you stop trying entirely. You’re defeating yourself before you start and that’s discouraging as hell. If your List Of Resolutions looks like this:
*Read the collective works of Aristotle in it’s native Greek
*Become a Famous Neurosurgeon
*Lose 87 pounds
*Build 12 houses single-handedly for Habitat for Humanity
*Repaint bedroom using tongue
*Become a roaring sex kitten
Maybe it’s time to reevaluate your goals. Don’t get me wrong, my Internet, I don’t mean that you shouldn’t make resolutions or have goals because trust me, if I told you what my end goals are, you’d all be laughing in my face. But I don’t plan on accomplishing them in a year and I’m breaking them down into smaller bits and bites rather than being all “I Am Going to Rule The WORLD!” (I am SO going to rule the world).
2010 Is The Year Of Me
My biggest goal for 2010, which I have narcissistically christened The Year Of Me, is to become comfortable with myself and my body. When some people get pregnant, they get these cute little adorable baby bumps resting above their normal looking lower bodies, and I turn into the Michelin Man. Whether I spend my days hugging the porcelain throne or shoving ding-dongs and cupcakes in my gaping maw, I gain roughly 60-70 pounds. And whomever told me that I could simply breastfeed those pesky pounds away was a damn liar and should be lined up and bitch slapped. My body is so efficient about storing food after my babies are born that if I’m ever stuck hidden away during a zombie melee, I’ll be able to live for upwards of ten years off of those fat deposits. After about a year, the weight starts to come off, but before that, it’s a pretty futile endeavor for me to even attempt dieting. Three times around the baby block, I know this.
As Sexy As The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man
Because of this, since my daughter was born last January, I’ve been avoiding pictures like it was my job. I avoid being naked whenever possible and I avoid having The Sex with any lights on. I feel about as sexy as the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man and forget traipsing around in my sex kitten lingerie because I’m still rocking a nursing bra and granny panties because that, my friends, is how good I feel about myself. I’ll barely buy myself clothes or look in the mirror because it makes me so sad to see what I look like. And this isn’t because The Daver is all “you’re nasty” because if he were, I’d nail his balls to the wall and string him up by his penis from the flagpole.
Booger-Stained Yoga Pants
But this has to stop for my own sanity’s sake. My daughter turns one next month and the weight is coming off. I’ve started buying real clothes again and stopped apologizing for what I look like, because you know what? I EARNED every ounce of it and no one else cares what I look like. I’m working on getting the weight off and I’ll be back to fighting shape in no time. I’ll be prancing around in my Easter Ham costume and we’ll be playing Little Bow Peep again by the end of next year. It’s time to start reclaiming my groove and bringing myself back, because while I’ve been wearing the same booger-stained yoga pants and chasing my kids around the house I’ve lost myself along the way. I’ll find my way back and reclaim my inner self who has been trying to claw her way out because my kids who love their mommy dearly, also need to know that their mom is a person too.
So while I have a stack of small resolutions that I’ve made toward a greater goal, they’re not on any specific time-table and if I can’t accomplish them right away, well, that’s okay with me. I’m working toward making 2010 The Year of Me and I’m bringing Aunt Becky back from underneath the mountains of laundry and stacks of dirty dishes. With that, my self-esteem is going to take a dramatic upturn and soon, I’ll be buying candy cane thongs and butt-bows once again.
Do you make resolutions for the New Year? If you do, do you follow them?