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Tuesday, January 4, 2011


So here we are.
Yes, yes, it’s a new year. Filled with the promise of all sorts of new things, some of which come to fruition but most of which don’t. 
Fret not that all of the glittering trimmings and lights of the holiday season have been taken down, leaving behind the somber grays of a barren winter. It’s been replaced with a new decor. Why look, there’s rhetoric everywhere, more pervasive than the lingering grime-capped snow drifts:
New Year, New You!
This is so exhausting. Year after year we’re told that we need/should/ought to grab this chance to overhaul everything about who we are and create a total newness in appearance, attitude, or intelligence that even if we do achieve, will become obsolete in another 365 days. 
New Year, New You!
I know, it’s really just a clever and overused slogan mostly used to sell magazines, cosmetics, diet plans, and gym memberships at a time when people are pulling their pockets inside out as a result of their recent gifting and overspending. But it’s hard to ignore, and the words can’t help but permeate one’s common sense.
New Year, New You!
It’s a taunt wrapped in faux inspiration. It says, “You were fine in November, but now that you have to remember to write 2011 instead of 2010 you’re completely unacceptable in this bright shiny tomorrowland.”
New Year, New You!
It’s not even about resolutions (which incidentally, can be made any time of year) or how easily broken they are. We’ve sung that song and danced that dance. It’s about our misguided makeover mentality: the myth that if you just lose that weight or cut that hair or redo that living room, all of your problems will be solved. Just like that stroke of midnight and the dropping ball and all that confetti means that you suddenly have a squeaky clean slate.
But the weight of December, be it in our minds or on our asses, does not melt away so instantly. 
Yes, it is a new year. But no one can truly become new. Sure, you can get that new lipstick, or adopt that new attitude, or even sculpt that new figure, and there’s something to be said for that. But you still have your skin, your DNA, your history, your blood, your heart. You can’t make those things over, and there’s no shame in that.
In that spirit, I propose: New Year, Old You, New Toys!
I know. It sounds lame, and sort of like “Christmas: The Sequel.” But it’ll still sell crap, without making so many people feel like inadequate crap. 
Yes indeed. Welcome to me, all of me (including holiday poundage). 

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