It has long since been a motto of mine to not make New Year’s resolutions. I don’t like the idea of making a promise to myself, and potentially others, that I can’t keep.
I think when you
make a New Year’s resolution, you are often under the influence of alcohol,
possibly surrounded by your family and friends, who, let’s face it, can be
prone to leading you down the garden path.
Or worse, you’re
spending New Year’s Eve with some drunken strangers who have, in just a matter
of hours become your BFF and you collectively decide the only way to start the
new year is by making a pact to lose weight, do a parachute jump, or leave the
job you hate.
In reality, you’ll
never see your BFF again, and the closest you’ll come to a parachute jump is
jumping off the edge of your bed, while impersonating Wonder Woman (I have
never done that. Never). As for losing weight, well to be honest it’s not
polite to ask a lady about her weight, so..so, there!
Now on New Year’s
Eve last year (which is confusing I know as this New Year’s Eve was last year
technically, but let’s not be pedantic), I had just discovered I was pregnant.
So the evening consisted of me and my husband covering the fact that I was
‘designated driver’, and me not touching a drop of alcohol. In fact one of our
friends, after a glass of wine (which with this little 5ft 1in pocket rocket is
pretty much all it takes) literally asked me if I was ‘up the duff’ on my first
refusal of a gin and tonic!
After an evening
of sweating (hot flushes) and being the sober judge listening for the 15th
time to the umpteen reasons my friend had not found a boyfriend this year, I
went home with the only resolution of not going out next New Year’s Eve.
Now this
resolution I kept. Not necessarily out of choice, but out of necessity. Our 5
month old daughter is apparently not old enough to look after the house on her
own, and even if I was to leave her bottles lined up and ready, she also
doesn’t appear to be capable of feeding herself.
But as it
happened, we had the best New Year’s Eve we have in a while. We sat down
quietly, sober, ate a pizza, drank Diet Coke and were all in bed (two adults, a
baby and two kittens) by 10.30pm. This may not seem rock and roll, but it was,
as it happens, an excellent decision.
I began 2013
without the need to vomit (something I hadn’t actually avoided the previous
year, even without the aid of the lovely people at Gordon’s and Schweppes),
with a clear head, no regrets about the previous night’s behaviour, and ready
for the arrival of family at lunch.
But. For some god
forsaken reason only known to the Gods and my deteriorating baby brain, I made
some resolutions. I promised myself I would do workout DVDs and walk more. Why
would I do such a thing?
At the time I
clearly felt these targets were achievable. However, I can confirm that as of
the 4th January 2013, I have neither opened the box on Davina’s 30
minute training sessions, or ventured outside, either with or without a pram.
I know, you’re
disappointed in me. If it helps, so am I. But I made these resolutions, so I
must stick to them until at least 28th January. If nothing else, I
just want to beat the hoards who will soon be cutting out the ‘daily gym
visits’ and ‘calorie controlled diets’, only to be replaced by months of paying
for a gym membership they don’t want -but are too embarrassed to cancel - and
evening-upon-evening of ‘finishing off the Christmas chocolates’!
Happy New Year and
hello 2013, let it be a good one!
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