I’ve never really been one for making New Year’s Resolutions, at least not of my own accord. Sure, I filled in those “My New Year’s Resolutions” worksheets in grade school with things like “I will be on time” or “I will stop procrastinating,” yet here I am, approaching 26, still a minimum of five minutes late for everything and still up till 4am the night before deadlines. Even the easiest of resolutions – “I will acquire as many velour tracksuits as possible,” ie. my goal for 2018 – seem doomed to fail. I’m exiting 2018 with the exact same number of velour tracksuits I had entering it, that is, two. Resolutions always seemed a little silly to me; time is an arbitrary concept with no real meaning outside human definition. If we really wanted to make a change, why wait for a specific day?
But this year, I’m determined to follow through. My 2019 New Year’s Resolution is to finally make peace with my body.
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