The resolution ruse

This year, I’ve made a conscious decision: not to make a New Year’s resolution. I’ve yet to meet someone who genuinely keeps their resolve.

Take my school friend, for instance. Every year, he vows to run or jog daily to lose weight. On New Year’s morning, you’ll surely find him jogging near a dosa or vada eatery. He sticks to his resolution of starting an exercise routine but forgets the purpose—weight loss. Can you blame him for indulging in a snack after sweating so much? Ironically, he sweats because he’s overweight, not due to the jogging.

Worse still is my neighbour, an otherwise well-meaning lady. She resolves to take up music seriously every year. We dread the Margazhi month music programmes on TV, which inspire her to dust off her shruti box and practice in a rather high-pitched voice. Unfortunately, she is hard of hearing and won’t stop until she can hear herself. Well, as good neighbours, we can’t control her. So we patiently wait for her grandson to object, hoping earnestly that she’ll abandon her resolution soon.

I have made similar resolves in the past—to clean the house, dispose of old things, and tidy up the mezzanine floor and cupboards. However, after each cleaning session, I realise I have merely moved things around without disposing of anything. It’s what I call the “hoarding disorder” in me. Even the junk collector on the road sees me busy in the garage with a duster in hand and a towel wrapped on my head going about the serious business of cleaning. But he soon realises he is wasting time and moves away, knowing I won’t part with anything.

Most diabetics I know, including myself, resolve to reduce sugar intake, but it’s a doomed endeavour from day one. We’re flooded with sweets and goodies on New Year’s Day, making it impossible to resist. How can I not eat the Belgian Godiva chocolates my son dutifully sends from far away? I’ve learnt to postpone my sugar tests by a few weeks until the sweets run out. My rather cunning strategy is to keep my resolves to myself, so when I inevitably break them, no one will know about the lack of will.

Last year’s resolution takes the cake. Fed up with forwarded messages on WhatsApp—about how to heal your knee pain or endless advice for the afterlife—I vowed not to check the app. I kept up my resolve for a few hours on the New Year until my wife reminded me all our relatives were upset that I hadn’t responded to their New Year greetings.

So this year, I resolve not to resolve.