The Bastard Lounge

Misinformed, angry, coffee-addled ranting.

New Year, Same Arsehole.

And so we are three days into the New Year, and the treadmills of budget gyms up and down the country are crammed with ugly wobbly people, slowly waddling towards tiny screens showing Jeremy Kyle repeats. (This, of course, does not happen in the more expensive ‘health clubs’, where the only members are middle aged executives wallowing in the hot tub and staring at their secretary’s pert arse jiggling up and down on the cross trainer in a way that their wife’s just doesn’t any more)

Yes, it’s time for New Year’s Resolutions, a time when the vast majority of people, in a shocking moment of clarity decide they need to lose weight, inexplicably perplexed by the notion that being a glutinous turd for the past twelve months has led to them resembling something from Jabba the Hutt’s BBW porn collection. Even more bizarrely the confession that one has become more rotund than previously desired is somehow supposed to surprise us. It’s as if they don’t realise that the rest of the population has also spent the past fortnight eating several farms’ worth of poultry, with their only exposure to exercise being the frustrated arm-flailing and granny-punching that accompanies every festive game of charades.

Don’t get me wrong, self-improvement is a worthy goal, but the fact that it’s tied to an arbitrary date should in itself be a warning sign that the individual isn’t really that interested in the change. If you really hated something about yourself, you wouldn’t wait until the clearing of the New Year’s Hangover to do something about it. Admittedly, if your goal is to lose weight it must be nigh on impossible to do so during the festive period. Unless, you know, you ate healthily or exercised or some shit like that. But if your goal is something more abstract and wanky, like “be more spontaneous”, there’s no reason to wait until January 1st to do that. Simply surprise your entire family by not being a pretentious bell-end for once.

The only way for any change to actually be carried out is to have some form of target. I mocked the ‘once-a-year-diet’ club earlier, but the vast (no jokes about being ‘vast’ please) majority of these people are quite content just to lose most of the excess flab they gained over Christmas. That’s fine. That’s sensible and measurable. I myself am aiming to increase the distance I can swim without floundering on the side of the pool and gasping for breath like a seal giving birth. I’m doing this because swimming improves my bad back and fitness, I enjoy it, and because the world doesn’t get to see me in Speedos anywhere near as often as it deserves. This isn’t necessarily a ‘resolution’, more a goal which I can work towards.

But this in itself won’t change me. Anyone thinking that 2013 will bring about some form of major personality change better hope that they’re correct; as their current personality is clearly some form of naive misguided moron. If you were a dick last year, you’re going to be a dick this year. A load of fireworks and drunkenly kissing your dog at midnight isn’t going to change that. Instead of making a resolution to “be more x” or “be less y”, why not instead write a list of actual things you wish to accomplish. If you’ve always wanted to go to a particular country, or read a particular book, or finger a particular waitress from that coffee place near the train station, you can look back on 2013 and make a true judgement on its success from whether or not these things happened.

I hope everyone accomplishes what they hope to this year. But more importantly, when we inevitably fail at the majority of our targets, our dreams of running the London Marathon crushed at the first sight of a Vaseline-smothered nipple; I hope that, ultimately, the good bits outweigh the shit bits. There’s not really any better way of measuring success.

DPJ.

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One comment on “New Year, Same Arsehole.

  1. Pingback: 2013: A Year of Things – Part IV. | The Bastard Lounge

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This entry was posted on January 3, 2013 by .
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