The Resolution.  The declaration to do or not do, be or not be… something.  Some people, I have noticed, start pronouncing their propositions before Christmas.  You know the ones, “Next year I resolve to completely cut sugar out of my diet!”  The simple fact is that you know these people are going to burn out like a lit match roughly two to three weeks into the new year.  They will be walking around, zombie-like, groaning in agony as they pass by the box of donuts at the office for the umpteenth time, finally succumbing to the siren song of the sugar-glazed deliciousness.

The cry of defeat muted by only by the cry of ecstasy as they stuff their face, donut-after-sugar-glazed-and-sprinkled-donut.  We’ve all seen them.  We stand watching, like we would for a car accident, “rubbernecking” at the carnage.  Those poor donuts.  Sprinkles strewn about, glazing covering the face of the sugar-starved zombie.  A glob of  frosting crammed up one nostril, dangling there with nonpareils in multicolored hues.  Satisfied grunts fill the air as they slide against the cabinets to the floor, one hand rubbing their belly as they suck the last of the sugar coating from their fingers, scraping it from under their fingernails with their teeth.  Yes, we’ve all seen them.

I don’t remember the first time I remember hearing someone declare their resolution for the new year, but I know it was in grade school.  I know that the speaker uttered that “chocolate” was the target… giving it up.  I remember thinking, “Why would anyone want to give up chocolate?”  Sure, resolving to fight less with a sibling.  How about resolving to stop picking ones nose?  Even declaring to stop eating paste was fair game… but, chocolate?

As I got older, the resolutions became more complex… or just more “adult”.  I would hear everything from giving up alcohol to sex with certain partners because the relationship was “going nowhere anyway” or the person was “no good” for them.

And then it happened.  I hit my 30’s and suddenly I find that the resolutions that I hear have suddenly reverted back to the same things I’d heard back in grade school with a mix of teens and 20’s:

• Giving up chocolate.
• Attempting not to fight with children/boyfriends/spouses/siblings/parents as much.
• Giving up sex with a person who is “no good” for them or where the relationship is “going nowhere”.
• Giving up or cutting back on alcohol.
• Working out more, if not every day.

You get the idea.   We’ve got this strange mix, or conglomeration, of resolutions spanning from kindergarten to graduate school, once we hit our 30’s.  I’ve gotten around this.  How?  I don’t make resolutions.

I tried.  A couple of times, maybe a few.  My attempts at resolving to do or not do began and ended in grade school.  The lack of success that I was surrounded by and the stench of defeat when I witnessed the failure, theirs or my own, left me scratching my head over what the point of it all was.

I even tried to cut out my beloved chocolate, my attempts failed quickly.  Fighting less with my brother, a failure.  I could go on, but while I excel at self-flagellation, I try to not do it very often.  So I stopped with the resolutions.  No more would I descend upon an unsuspecting box of chocolates, two-fisting the scrumptious morsels into my salivating maw (isn’t THAT a pretty picture??).

I have now taken to sitting back and watching the show when it comes to the New Years Resolution.  Everyone from the Average Joe to celebrities are now taking to public forums to declare their intentions.  Good for them!  I wish you all the best!  I’ll encourage you and cheer you on, but just know this.  I’m going to sit and watch and eat my chocolates the whole time… in front of you.

Mmmmm…. chocolate.