Jan 2, 2018 3 min read

It’s 2018 and I am not thinner, kinder or richer, but I’m going to give this New Year’s resolution thing another shot. Every year, I resolve to be a better person. Every year, I’m not.

I’ve been making resolutions at midnight every New Year since I was a teenager. I expect every year to be different. If the definition of insane is “doing the same thing and expecting different results,” than I am nutso, wacko, cuckoo.

I want to be better than I was before. Better. Stronger. Faster. We might not have the technology.

One year, I gave up swearing. Coming home from a New Year’s Eve party, I was in stuck in a massive traffic jam. It took me 45 minutes to get home. I let out a string of expletives that made nearby truck drivers blush. It was the shortest resolution on record.

As far as I can remember, I have been on a diet every Jan. 2. I hope to make it through the year, but my resolution has never survived past February. By St. Valentine’s Day, I’m filled with nachos, chocolate and regret.

One year it was suggested that instead of giving up something, I add something. A young woman in a new-age bookshop in Venice, Calif., once told me to look at it in a new way. She said, “Giving up sounds defeatist. Don’t deprive, thrive!” She went on to say, “Spend the year nurturing your positive energy,” or some hippie doo-doo like that. Um. I write comedy and theater criticism. I make a living from complaining about stuff! I didn’t last long.

There’s always the gym. I have it on good authority that the regulars hate January in the gym. The wannabes show up and take over for the month. They resolve to work out, taking over the elliptical, stationary bikes and swim lanes from the muscled men and women who go throughout the year. Those toned titans know they’ll get their equipment back in February, because the rest of us will sink back into the sofa from whence we came. The accountants are banking on it. It’s brilliant! Pay – but don’t use the equipment. That’s why it’s so hard to get out of a gym membership. You have to fake your own death to leave a Bally’s.

I was going to give up television for a year. One new buzz-worthy Netflix show, and the potato returned to its couch. I know I’m not the only one. A lot of you have treadmills that are being used to air dry wool sweaters. I’d ask you to raise your hands, but I wouldn’t want you to exert yourselves.

There’s always that co-worker who has a birthday in January, and they say things like, “Can’t you go off your diet for my birthday? It’s just one day.”

“No, Doris. It’s not just one day! There’s always cake in the break room!”

This year, my resolution will be to give up resolutions. Have a Happy New Year!