Dingus of the week: “New Year, new you” people
Shut up, please!
If you are reading this, then I regret to inform you that somehow we made it into a new year. And — lucky us! — it’s an election year, which very famously did not go well for America the last time. In case you forgot, there was an insurrection. And the same guy who was the figurehead for that is running again and is still insanely popular.
Years are constructs put together to artificially measure the passage of time and our inevitable tumble toward death. (Yes, I am taking Vitamin D for my seasonal depression, why do you ask?)
Making it into a new year is really just a sign that we have persisted despite the horrors. So good for us. We deserve a little treat to celebrate our survival. To mark the love and happiness that we cling to despite the structural and political forces that try to rob us of our agency, healthcare, and rights.
Unfortunately, since it’s America, a country founded by humorless Puritans who never met a spice they didn’t want to burn at the stake, we choose not to celebrate. Instead, every New Year, Americans like to punish themselves by taking a look in the mirror and declaring that they hate themselves and will now subject themselves to the ritual torture that we have rebranded as diet culture.
New Year’s resolutions have been around for thousands of years. Many of the early resolutions were just about planting crops and appeasing a vengeful god. Today, the vengeful gods we seek to appease are the fitness influencers who try to tell us we have the same amount of time in our day as Kim Kardashian. (No, we don’t, because she has an entire team of people helping her and I can barely get my kids to empty the dishwasher. Also, I don’t think Kim Kardashian empties the dishwasher.)
They also like to tell us there is no excuse to look the way we do and we need to get moving and try the latest paleolithicial-dino-carbon diet, which is when you just eat fossils until the museum you source them from puts you in jail.
I am pretty sure that the FBI uses carbless diets to force confessions. But also, McKaseigh your favorite fitness influencer on Instagram also recommends going carbless in the New Year so you can have abs and absolutely no joy at all during the winter’s darkest months. Are Instagram influencers FBI operatives designed to break us with their “fit check” pictures of their abs or their “down to earth haha normalize the pooch” pictures where they are simply exhaling? I don’t know, but someone should investigate.
Resolving to move your body and maybe eat two more vegetables a day are not inherently bad things. But so often these fitness resolutions become a way to hurt our bodies and make ourselves miserable in the name of “self-improvement.” The economy of self-improvement has no vested interest in our happiness. In fact, it thrives on our unhappiness. If it ever made us happy, it couldn’t continue to take our money for a shake, pill, shot, or food supplement that it has promised will fix us this time. It will be better this time! THEY PROMISE.
“The new year brings the same horrors. No new notebook is gonna change that. Crossfit can’t undo what your ex did to you. We are all just a mass of beautifully broken people, writhing into a new year, bringing ourselves with us. Maybe we don’t need a diet. Maybe we just need a fucking break.”
Take it from me: I once did Whole 30 in order to “lose the baby weight.” It didn’t work, so I did it again. 2014 was a dark time. I got to know sweet potatoes in a way that god never intended.
, “Keeping us laser-focused on personal growth keeps us locked into capitalism (so much self-care shit to buy!). It also distracts us from the bigger picture. To be clear: I’m not here to guilt trip anyone who buys themselves something pretty/tasty/comforting because life is a lot and sometimes we need that dose of joy. But Resolution Culture keeps us focused on ourselves and our bodies. And these personal projects get in the way of us naming and dismantling larger systems of oppression.”How many years have we done this now? Made new-year promises about our weight and that fad diet, only to end up at the end of another year, exhausted, sad, unhappy with ourselves.
But, what if we didn’t? What if instead of punishing our bodies with a juice cleanse, we celebrated them for surviving a worldwide pandemic? For keeping us and our children and our friends alive?
This week, I visited my therapist and we talked about my seasonal depression plan. But at some point, I told her, “Look, there will be a week or two this winter where I wear the same leggings every day and don’t shower. We all just need to accept it.” There is no amount of Vitamin D and running and making myself a little treat and any other chemical therapy that’s going to help me forget that there is war and genocide and that people I love are really sick and it’s frightening. And I’m scared and there is no bootstrapping my way out of that.
The new year brings the same horrors. No new notebook is gonna change that. Crossfit can’t undo what your ex did to you. We are all just a mass of beautifully broken people, writhing into a new year, bringing ourselves with us. Maybe we don’t need a diet. Maybe we just need a fucking break.
And now for something good:
When Costco employees unionized, the CEO responded by saying the company has failed in its mission to support employees and wants to do better. Which is pretty great in the realm of CEO responses where the bar is very low.
Tesla is losing a fight with Swedish labor unions.
Caitlin Clark continues to be a joy to watch play basketball.
A 13-year-old “beat” Tetris, which makes me feel so much better about the amount of screen time my kids get.
This elephant is going to get sex. Good for her! Someone needs to get some in Biden’s economy.
More and more women are keeping the abortion pill on hand. Honestly, men should too. Everyone should. It should be part of your first aid kit. GET THE ABORTION PILL!
In divorce news:
Shared by newsletter reader Cassey, apparently not eating butter makes you want to leave your husband.
Ergo.
Eat butter. Leave men.
And of course, the always perfect newsletter reader Caitlin made this graphic to go along with the margarine-divorce rate chart.
Speaking of divorce. Today is the last day to enter the This American Ex-Wife preorder giveaway.
What I am drinking:
Over the holidays, I made an incredible old fashioned with brown sugar simple syrup that I made with orange peels, cloves, and anise. And I mixed it up with pear liqueur and some bourbon. It was a delight.
It’s January and I, like so many others, am mostly not drinking. And I say mostly because I do have my friend’s 40th birthday in a week, so I will be celebrating the shit out of her.
This week, I made the Alison Roman stew, which remains unrivaled for flavor and ease of cooking, and served it with LaCroix that I dashed a few bitters into. I really need to remember to make the stew more often.
I’m also a recent Caroline Chambers convert and plan on making her risotto and serving it up with a fake French 75. These are basically lemonades with sparkling water. And that sounds perfect to me.
My resolution for 2023 was to be kinder. In general. It's the opposite of a SMART goal. (Specific, measurable, attainable, realistic, and timely.) It was more of a DUMB goal. (Doable, Understandable, My own business and Better than nothing.) I more or less made it. I fought less with idiots and I gave people the benefit of the doubt more. My most successful resolutions have been fashion related. I once resolved to wear cute shoes more often, and another time vowed to wear colors more often rather than the black top/blue jean combo known to some as the Chicago Uniform. (I am some. So are my sisters and some coworkers.) But this year I have a different resolution. I'm going to be worse. I can't be more specific than that. Or maybe I can be but I am not going to try. (Hence, worse.)
I always approach the new year like I brought a lottery ticket - which I only do when it’s insanely high and the odds of winning are ridiculously low. I know - DUMB! But I love thinking about which chore I’d divest myself from. Do I hire a housekeeper, personal chef or a chauffeur - I hate cooking so chef always wins but man would I love a more orderly house.
January is day dreaming month - we imagine where we’ll be, what we’ll be, and if you’re old “if we’ll be” . IMO - Daydreaming is the only good thing about January …. Besides MLK Day
Quite frankly I am fed up with the food industry, the medical industry, the health industry, and the wellness industry. It is clear that Americans don’t look like they did even 40 years ago. It’s also clear that we have plenty of help getting so unhealthy.
People are making a living off of shortening other people’s lives. The food industry with an assist by our government is poisoning us and the medical industry only gets paid if they treat illnesses. I get enraged just thinking about it. I am also so sad for young people with colon cancer and diseases they shouldn’t be getting for another 40 years.
Our worth shouldn’t come from a dress size, zip code or W2. Being healthy shouldn’t be so time consuming, confusing or expensive. So I co-sign everything you say with a small caveat: You’re not a sellout for wanting to look like the standard myth and it’s okay to want to be better.
Y’all this life isn’t a dress rehearsal. We get one body and it has to take us on the journey. Do what you want /can to stay healthy. There are so many ways to eat and exercise. Every body is different so figure out what works for you. No advice from me, I still am trying to figure out my own body. Take control of your mental, emotional and physical health but do it for yourself and your journey.
By my birthday (August) I want to be .... (still day dreaming)