Resolve Within Reason

 No sooner do I turn on the TV on the morning of January 1st, coffee cup in hand, than I’m walloped by the blitz of self improvement commercials. What was okay 24 hours ago, clearly will not be tolerated today.
 That -very slight, I’m sure- mustache you’ve been sporting, no thanks to questionable doeses of hormones, since you were politely asked by your freezing, mitten-wearing family, clustered by the fire, to go to the doctor to ”help regulate your temperature” due to The Change, is not okay.
 Those extra twenty pounds you’ve been hauling around since January 1st of last year, are  also not okay.
 That hair color? Nope. Not okay.
 And by the way, your carpets need steam cleaning and your gutters are in need of some sort of magic caulking in a can, that looks like that spray-on hair from the ‘90s, for the thinly-tressed Luke Perry in your life.
 After the holidays, we’re all put on notice. It makes me long for the days of recent past, of Christmas movies in front of the fire, cooking shows galore and no excuses needed for hibernation and Martha Stewart sanctioned gluttony.
 Who are these people telling us that we‘re a hot mess? Whoops, no one actually said “hot.” We’re just simply, a mess. And so are our homes, on 1/1/Any Given Year.
 I understand that people make resolutions, but I have to tell you, I kind of resolve not to resolve. I mean, I know my limitations. I’ve tried Zumba. It was not pretty. Although, if memory serves, my outfit was adorable.
 I think that this is why we hear the phrase, “holiday let down”. Everyone’s been feeling so good, what with all of that giving and receiving, and then, boom! All of that good will toward men goes out the window when your TV points out that you need liposuction, lazer hair removal, and your house is a disaster.
 Resolutions should be reasonable; like, “I resolve not to eat a half stack of Oreos as I’m preparing dinner.” That seems like something I can stick with. And only have one. Or two.
 I can also resolve not to squeeze the toothpaste in the middle. I think.
 I’m pretty sure that I can resolve to vacuum once a week.
 Once the TV thinks that it has sufficiently shamed us by sometime in mid-March, it softens the blow by showing us fluffy, twitchy-nosed bunnies and downy soft chicks, in vivid, springtime farmscape, surrounded by crème-filled, chocolate eggs, just in time for Easter. Wait, isn’t this how we got into this mess?
 Just after that, the TV slaps us on the hand and says, “Bathing suit season is here! Mwhahaha.”
 The TV giveth, and the TV taketh away.
 So, we’ve yo-yo dieted, gotten our hormones under control, hopeully, and not only steam cleaned the carpets, but also, researched Rogaine, sealed the gutters and recaulked every tub in the house. We’re on top of it. But, I think it may be easier to resolve not turn on the TV until October, when the good Christmas movies come on.
Email Kelly Sinon at [email protected] 

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