Resolutions are for the resolutley resoluble

I resolve to make no resolution at all.

As, no doubt, people are now all going to be talking of resolutions for the new year, I thought I’d just say, I don’t believe in resolutions. I think they are rather a waste of time, a catch 22 even.

If you were the kind of person who would actually take a resolution to heart, then you are likely the precise kind of person who doesn’t need to make resolutions anyway. But the kind of people who I see making resolutions are the kind of people who never manage to stick with any personal improvement, and by making a “new year’s resolution” are more likely than not to do nothing with their resolutions, and perhaps more likely to not do anything of an improving nature simply because they have declared something they don’t want to change but want to be seen as fashionable and have others to nod impressively and say, “Good for you, Bob, losing 75 pounds and exercising every day for an hour and going Vegan is so admirable.” So in effect, by making the resolution they are actually perpetuating a lack of change, and if they would just resolve to be unresolved they would actually do more toward self improvement by being honest with themselves.

Ironic. I guess my argument is flawed. One could almost say by consistently not living up to one’s resolutions they are actually being consistently resolute in their irresoluteness.

Confused? Well, I confuse myself. I’m just going to stick with my point; resolutions are not for me.

I say this as I contemplate altering yet another batch of pants that I had to buy because I gained too much weight to fit into the closet full I already have. You know what truly is ironic? I hate sewing. I do it because I am cheap and at times it is necessary if one wants to wardrobe one’s self at any price less than a small fortune, because I never seem lucky enough to find bargain price clothes that fit properly over all areas of my body, and generally must buy one size big to fit my largest flaw, I mean area, and then take in the rest to fit. As I continue to gain weight at tremendous speed I find myself spending more and more time at that accursed sewing machine. I could just exercise and stop eating all the delicious bacon and gravy and pita that Leif makes, but that is a resolution that plagues one for life. And as it is infinitely more fun to enjoy a huge greasy cheeseburger and a pile of french fries washed down with Pepsi while watching the entire first season of Weeds in front of my big screen TV, than it is to eat a petite 3 oz piece of dry broiled chicken accompanied by a mountain of steamed broccoli then go for a 5 mile run, I have to say I am enjoying my vice to it’s fullest. Sewing, as miserable a chore that is, lasts a couple afternoons a month. Exercise and healthful eating is a chore that plagues you incessantly. Hmmn. Maybe my problem is that I am just the epitome of laziness?

They say a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds. But in my case I think a foolish consistency may be the joy of over eaters and exercise haters but is definitely the bane of lazy cheapskates.