Resolutions And Other Lies

 

    There’s a specific time of year when I don’t need a calendar to know what day it is. All I have to do is pull into the YMCA parking lot and take a look around. Almost every space is filled. Just a week earlier, I could have parked anywhere I wanted, diagonal, sideways, maybe even backing in a space if I was feeling frisky. Now I’m circling like a buzzard over roadkill, hoping someone finishes their workout before I finish my patience.

    Once inside, the evidence becomes overwhelming. The locker room is full of people I’ve never seen before. Not just one or two strangers, an entire convention of them. I had to wait in line for a shower, which at the YMCA feels unnatural. The steam room was packed, the whirlpool was overflowing with humanity, and, this one really stung, someone had taken my favorite locker. I don’t know how to explain this to non-YMCA people, but lockers are territorial. You don’t just take another man’s locker. That’s how turf wars start.

    If I was still unsure what day it was, lunch at a nearby restaurant erased all remaining doubt. I looked around and noticed something was terribly wrong. Instead of plates heaped high with fried catfish, meatloaf, mashed potatoes, biscuits, and cornbread, the foods God clearly intended us to eat, most people were picking at grilled chicken salads with raspberry vinaigrette dressing. I don’t know what raspberry vinaigrette is, but I’m pretty sure it was invented by a very thin person. 

    Between the YMCA and the restaurant, I had no doubt that it was January 2. That’s the magical day when everyone begins their New Year’s resolutions.

    A new year always brings with it the promise of fresh starts, a seemingly perfect time to eliminate all the bad habits accumulated over the previous twelve months. Things like slothfulness, overeating, or watching The View. Some people decide to add positive habits instead: exercising more, reading their Bible, drinking more water. In my case, it’s raising the lid before I go - something my wife has been suggesting to me since the Clinton administration.

    With human nature being what it is, there’s little chance anyone keeps a resolution for any appreciable length of time. Old habits are just too hard to break. People who swear they’re going to stop cussing will inevitably hit their thumb with a hammer. And those individuals who promise to be more patient always end up trapped in a checkout line behind someone holding fifty coupons and an intense commitment to saving thirty-one cents.  

    To paraphrase an old Beatle song: 

“You say you’ve made some resolutions, wellll you know, we’d all love to see your plans. You’re full of nothing but delusions, wellll we know, you’re just doing what you can.”

    I’ve seen this cycle play out year after year. Regulars at the gym patiently tolerate the sudden invasion of new fitness fanatics, fully aware that most of them will disappear. If not before Valentine’s Day, then certainly by the time Daylight Saving Time rolls around. And it won’t take long for those well-meaning salad eaters to decide it’s much easier to lose weight by visiting their doctor and getting a shot or two of Wegovy. Then it’s goodbye kale, hello cookies.

     Sometimes people don’t break bad habits, they just trade them in. Last January, I had a friend whose resolution was to stop smoking after 20 years. Truthfully, it was more of an ultimatum from his doctor, issued back in July. Still, he waited until January because, according to him, “it was going to be a good New Year’s resolution.” Go figure. He hasn’t smoked a cigarette in a year, but he’s replaced them with nicotine gum. Now he’s up to three packs of it a day, which seems less like quitting and more like swapping. 

    Personally, I refuse to participate in this annual exercise of self-deception. No one knows my limitations better than I do. On more than one early January, I’ve vowed to lose a few pounds, only to fall off the wagon the first time someone offered me a Snickers bar. Eventually, I realized there’s no need to set myself up for failure by making a list of lifestyle changes I have no intention of keeping.

    So now I’ve adopted the only New Year’s resolution I know I can keep: I make no resolutions at all. I 

That’s one promise I won’t break.