Six Reasons Why I Refuse To Make Resolutions
The beginning of each new year gives me anxiety. Full disclosure, by the end of any year, I have fully given up on any semblance of a diet I had previously attempted. You are likely to find me any day in December, buried in a pile of gift wrap and regret with a half eaten cheese ball in front of me and some Christmas cookie icing on my face. The family, the traveling, the presents, the wrapping, the parties, the budget, the freaking Elf; It is all just too much.
So I did what any rational thinking adult would do. I quit. Why torture myself with the reminders of why I am a failure, despite my desperate attempts to grasp at anything resembling a healthy lifestyle and acceptable presentation of mothering I can muster?
Here are six reasons why I refuse to make resolutions:
I Don’t Like To Fail: This is the same reason why my husband won’t teach me new things anymore. I don’t like to be anything but the best at things…like, immediately after trying them the first time. It doesn’t matter if I was a size 2 (transparency alert: I am a 2X), you can always find weight you have to lose. And no one can be the perfect mom. No one. I do not care how excellently your Pinterest-perfect, gluten free, Mickey-themed Christmas cookies turned out. Nope. Girl, I know you threw some mess into the closet before the house guests arrived. We’ve all done it! So why set myself up for failure? No ma’am. I will not do it.
Everyday Doesn’t Deserve to Be A Monday: When (and not if) I mess up, it becomes a go big or go home situation. “I shouldn’t have eaten that Hershey kiss. I guess I might as well eat the deluxe burrito at dinner with three baskets of chips and queso and start over tomorrow.” So, the cycle continues and I start over the next day. Sister, what did Thursday ever do to you!? Let each day be their own and not make every day for the first two weeks of January turn into a month of Mondays until you throw in the proverbial chocolate-covered towel anyway.
I Choose Peace Over Anxiety: As a mother who struggles with anxiety while my husband and I parent two kids (one with extreme behavior disorders), I wholly believe someone should be throwing me a mother of the freaking year parade every night when I go to bed with two living children, still married, and without having consumed an entire box of wine from Target. Mommin’ is no joke. It’s messy and hard and I haven’t showered in three days. I choose peace. I refuse to subject myself to the barrage of self-destructive thoughts that will haunt me all night if I attempt to take on a ‘whole new me’ just because of the date on the calendar.
The Gym Shouldn’t Feel Like Punishment: When I take my plus-sized rear end to the gym, people should be high-fiving me on my way in. “Way to go!” “Get it, mama!” But, instead, those of us who struggle with our weight feel stared at and judged in most gym environments. I need to want to go to the gym. When I go now, I have the support of my husband (who happens to be fit and handsome) and our kids love it. So, why would I want to tarnish a good thing with the feeling of impending doom when I sign myself up for fitness classes with spandex-clad fitness mamas and I am just doing my best not to engage in conversation since I can barely breathe! Yeah, I’ll pass.
Diet Should Be Synonymous With Lifestyle: Unlike what my figure suggests, I actually have a lot of nutrition and diet knowledge. For me, if I attempt fad diets, it is always short-lived. Who can (or wants) to live a life without pasta? Um, no thank you! Plus, if you are telling me I can’t have cheese, I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life. Get out! I prefer to pass up the “no carb” resolution in exchange for updating my meal plan, meal prep, and grocery shopping plans. This allows my entire family to gain the health benefits and doesn’t make me feel deprived.
If I Constantly Fail, I Won’t Ever Really Appreciate Myself For What I Can Do: I have gained and lost the same 60 pounds probably a dozen times. I am currently on the upswing of my weight, but I fluctuate. Plus, when you carry extra, a 10 pound differential is hard to notice. What I do notice is how I feel. When I am doing something active, I feel like I should be able to do what my formerly fit body could have accomplished. But when I am fit, I see myself in the overweight body I currently wear. It is healthier to be grateful for what I do have. I have a body that can get me around. I have a healthy report from the doctor. I have a beautiful, healthy family that loves me even though I wear sweats way too often and there is nothing about our house or our life that even closely resembles a glittery Pinterest success. So, I pick this life.
Happy 2018, folks! I will be over here with a box of wine, eating cheese and bacon, resolving myself to not make resolutions and BEING AWESOME! Relax, mama. Excuse yourself from the pressure and you will still be amazing. I promise!