A Short List of Super Specific New Year’s Resolutions


1. Buy a new toothbrush before the plastic head beneath the frayed bristles shaves away my enamel.

2. Read the books and films that I hype on social media.

(It’s just that Toni Morrison’s The Source of Self-Regard looked so good with the Gingham filter on Instagram. And posting that Wes Anderson trailer was a lot easier than actually sitting through the whole movie. All that symmetry makes me sleepy.)

3. Recognize that the act of writing down who gave what gift during the birthday party is not the same as actually sending thank you cards. Get better at sending them.

4. Find out how often I’m supposed to be changing out these contacts, because I have a feeling it’s not every 8 months when they’re ripped and caked with bacteria.

5. Stop buying white shirts. White blouses are the privilege of women who don’t wear drugstore foundation and can get a meatball in their mouth without hitting the rim. Nothin’ but net. (Or, maybe they don’t eat meatballs? Whatever, I don’t want that life.)

6. Stop buying “tummy firming” undergarments. All they do is relocate the fat to a different spot. I’d rather have a round paunch than have my torso look like a chef’s hat.

7. Learn how to enjoy a nap without the guilt. Let the children fend for themselves. They know how to open a bag of chips, or turn on Netflix, or dial 911. The fire extinguisher is but a few frantic steps away.

8. Stop trying on shoes in an 8 ½. That ship has sailed. I’m a solid 9 now. Blame it on the pregnancies. Actually, stop blaming things on the pregnancies. My kids are 6 and 11. My big feet, wide hips, and weak bladder are just part of who I am as a woman.

9. Let overly aggressive drivers pass on the highway. We don’t have to race. This is not Tokyo Drift – it’s the suburbs and no place is worth dying in a fiery crash to get to. Except, apparently, Old Navy on annual $1 flip-flop day.

10. Even though the sight and sound of flip-flops make me want to fold up inside of myself like a Popple having a panic attack, stop giving people shit for wearing them. Live and let live! C’est la vie! Laissez-faire!

BONUS RESOLUTION: Brush the dust off the French Rosetta Stone kit I got for Christmas 10 years ago… then promptly put it back on the shelf, dust-free.

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