I don't believe in making New Year's resolutions. I like the New Year as it is: fresh and clean, with no mistakes in it. Why stain the shine of 2012 with forced incentives and promises I know I'll never keep? That's right, people: I am a New Year's scrooge. Give me the champers and the parties; keep your lousy resolutions to yourself.
Exercise, writing, not screaming at the kids, being outdoors more - these are things I strive to do no matter if it's January 1st or November 2nd. I have learned, however, that one's goals, no matter how inviting to others, are best attempted oneself.
Take exercising. D and I decided to attempt a twice-weekly, 30 minute workout that I ripped out of a magazine. I thought it would be fun if we did it together afer the kids went to bed. You know, turn on the hockey game, take off a few layers, get sweaty. As a couple. Kind of a workout-slash-foreplay sort of evening.
This, dear reader, is the result:
Me: Okay, are you ready to do this?
D: I'm too full from dinner.
Me: DWAIN! Get your arse in here and let's do this!
D: Okay. (Looks around) I think this is going to wreck the living room floor.
Me: We are not THAT fat. (surveys her husband's orange crocs) I think you should put on some running shoes. You're gonna hurt your knees.
D: I don't know where they are.
Me: Dude, seriously???
D: Okay, I'll go look. (Leaves for 10 minutes. Returns with an old pair from 1997 with no laces) I couldn't find my good ones.
Me: For *&%$#@ sake. Let's go let's GO LET'S GO! Do you want to do this or what?
D: I'm too fat. I don't wanna. (starts flopping around like a preschooler) Don't make me!
(I leap on him in a fit of rage. A wrestling match ensues. He squeals like a girl)
Me: Okay, just forget it. I'm doing this with or without you. (Commences workout squats) 1 - 2 - 3 -4
D: (starts doing jumping squats) 25, 26, 39, 100. Done!
I wanted to kill him. And today I want to kill myself, I'm so sore. And I've learned an important lesson: couples that lounge together, stay together!