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.
Hi. This is my first blog post ever, though you probably knew that already. You’re probably from Facebook, where you likely clicked over out of curiosity, or perhaps mild contempt. Another chick starting a dumb blog no one is going to read*, I’m sure you’re thinking. Fantastic. Yeah, I know. Why am I here, then? Well, a few reasons. First and foremost, I am an English major without any real direction in life (no, I don’t want to be a teacher), beyond wanting to “write”. The only problem is, I don’t actually write very much, so I thought I should start doing that. Secondly, I have a lot of spare time on my hands at the moment. Thirdly, in the event that I do not have a lot of spare time on my hands in the future, this presents me with a wonderful opportunity to procrastinate my responsibilities. And lastly, I just plain like to hear, er, read, myself talking (writing?). I think I’m hilarious. Fight me. Continue reading “adventures with leather pants: an epiphany”→