January 2013
Rethinking Resolutions
Beverly Offen
I’d been making New Year’s Resolutions for many years, with only one result. It was not a pretty one. My unsuccessful efforts at change had made me feel like a failure, certainly when I revisited them at the end of the year and usually by the middle of February.
Many of the same Resolutions had been on my lists for years. I’d resolved to “Learn French” since high school; I’d been failing to do it for over forty years. I’d last weighed 115 pounds in college, also many years ago. “Exercise more” had appeared in different guises over the years—“Walk a mile every morning,” “Join an aerobics class,” and “Get a stationary bike” were just a few of its iterations.
On the other hand, I had accomplished a lot in my life. Why were my official New Year’s Resolutions always such a dismal bust?
Thinking about it, I realized that while my yearly Resolutions seemed to be positive and encouraging at first glance, they were actually wagging an accusatory finger at me every time I skipped my daily walk or had another cookie. No wonder I got depressed when I thought about that demanding list.
One day a friend told me about her new diet plan. Instead of counting the calories that she had consumed, she had begun keeping track of the calories that she had not eaten. The brownie she turned down and the dish of ice cream she replaced with a piece of fruit were big wins for her, and she was delighting in besting each day’s count of calories not eaten.
I was intrigued by the idea of turning calorie counting on its head, and it gave me the inspiration to rethink my Resolutions. Maybe I could find a way to reward myself for doing something positive, perhaps even something that was fun, rather than berating myself for failing to execute a serious Resolution. There were certainly many things I hadn’t done, not because they were difficult, illegal, or immoral, but because they were silly, embarrassing, or extravagant. What if, instead of resolving to become less tense, I resolved to indulge in some of the things I’d always felt I shouldn’t do. Maybe I’d become less tense and driven? It was certainly worth a try.
I decided I would not make Resolutions to improve myself but rather would give myself permission to experience some indulgences. I made a list of things I secretly wanted to do that I had always considered forbidden. And my New Year’s Resolutions became my New Year’s Indulgences.
Instead of my usual ten weighty Resolutions, I got so excited that I had to make myself stop at eleven delicious Indulgences. I gave myself permission to:
1. Skinny dip with a friend.
2. Visit a gambling casino; play a slot machine.
3. Skip a shower and take a long bubble bath.
4. Buy a bottle of really good red wine and share it with a friend.
5. Go for a manicure.
6. Get a pedicure as well.
7. Have a traditional McDonald’s meal—Big Mac, fries, and chocolate shake. Eat all of it.
8. Pay full price for a nice dress at a regular store, not at a discount store.
9. Wash my hair and let it dry—unstyled and wild.
10. Order a Cosmopolitan in a cocktail bar.
11. Subscribe to Vogue—maybe just for a year—and read it.
It was hard at first to allow myself to have fun, to feel a little improper, and to take some chances. But each time I accomplished an Indulgence, another weight slipped off my shoulders, and I breathed more easily. Throwing nutritional guidelines to the winds, I thoroughly enjoyed my decadent trip to McDonald’s. My manicure and pedicure were accomplished in one fell swoop, and I loved my shocking pink toes. Buying a dress at Bloomingdale’s was exciting and so were the compliments I received when I wore it. I didn't complete all my goals that first year—finding a dark, private place to swim was a bigger problem than I had expected. But I checked off enough to feel that I was loosening up, and that my life was less of a job and more of an adventure. I began to laugh more and even to laugh at myself. Exploring my Indulgences helped to make it a very good year, and the Indulgences I hadn't accomplished became happy anticipations for the next year’s list.
Most important, I realized that I didn't have to make Resolutions ever again. The only result of all those years of making Resolutions had been to dampen my spirit. I was already a responsible person and would do the things I had to do. Learning French, I decided, was most definitely not something I had to do.
Beverly Offen grew up on a small farm outside a small Illinois town and has livedmost of her life in and around Chicago. She was an editor in educational publishing and then a librarian in public and community college libraries. She has written newsletters, manuals, and poetry. She is now writing memoirs and personal essays about ideas and relationships.