Getting resolute on resolutions

The fact that this blog is more than two weeks late is testament to the utter impossibility of New Year's resolutions: both keeping and making them.

Each year we set ourselves up for disappointment, defeat and inevitable self-loathing, and I'm starting to think this whole "new beginning" thing is bollox. As with nearly everything else — from hairstyles to relationships — I'm much more adept at articulating what I aim to avoid than what I'm looking to achieve.

So, in that vein, on these points I am resolute:

• Fuck strapless everything. My boobs are no longer the solution to sag. They don't protrude all perky-like to hold my clothes up anymore; they are part of the problem. Cut-out backs are for children.

• Busy is bull. In 2013 I'm out for a slower, more introspective year. I'd like to see more of fewer people, spend some quality time looking inwards instead of surveying the room, and re-learn how to have a slammin' time solo.
  
• Poo on being poor. It's not romantic. Despite what Le Mis would have one believe, I do not resemble Fantine when I get a bad haircut and skip a shower. I look like Gary Busey. Urchin is not an alluring look for most women. So for the sake of my vanity and my sanity, this year I'ma hustle.
  
• Weekends away do not belong to weddings. I am happy to attend, a pro in the photobooth and more than capable of cutting a rug, but this year I will go on at least one mini-vacay in celebration of my own unlikely existence, rather than someone else's eternal bliss. 

So cheers to a year of reverse resolutions. What are you out to avoid in 2013?