Sunday, 1 January 2012

Dear 2012, the year that will be.

So here is it. A brand new year, rising grim and grey and just a tiny bit hungover. Breathe in that anti-climax. It is always like this – there’s a point between Christmas and New Year that’s like being in suspended animation and you just want the New Year to come already! And then it does, in a great gleaming rush of music, dancing, fireworks and ill-advised snogging. So in the end, despite all your best intentions, you crawl out of bed halfway through the 1st January, aching in places you never knew you had and unable to bear the thought of a run and a salad.

Ah, New Year. How I love you.

Because despite all this I love the promise of a New Year. A smooth sheet of white paper which you can blot or write a masterpiece on. 2012, be prepared to be my masterpiece.

This year I have no resolutions – it’s too easy to say things like Lose weight, Tone up, Save £1,000.

This year, I’m just going to savour it.

I’m going to do my best to keep up my running, Zumba and yoga sessions. I’m going to be mad busy at the beginning of the year so I’ll need these to get out of my head and keep myself sane.

I’m going to work damned hard at my course. I’m going to face those “What if I’m totally crap at it?” thoughts and then wave them away. I am not going to be crap. I’m going to work too hard to be crap.

I’m going to keep dressing to impress – it makes me feel good.

I’m going to see loads of my friends. I can too easily wrap myself up in thoughts and work and that’s no good for me. I’m going to get out and see my peeps.

I’m going to keep on with the cooking. I don’t suck! It tastes good! It’s healthy! Everyone’s a winner!

I’m going to stay positive. Affirmations are their own kind of magic.

Now do excuse me, I’m off to make come hither eyes at 2012 while I brew up my tenth green tea of the day.

*Bows out*

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