I’ll come clean with you, I am typing this while eating a hot cross bun. For breakfast. In January. I have slipped straight from mince pies to Easter treats. And all without a morsel of remorse or a crumb of guilt.
If you are reading this having just completed an early morning jog – I salute you. If you are reading this whilst shunning the Sauvignon – I applaud you. I understand why people want to ‘get fit’ in January or reel in their drinking following the festive gluttony. I will not sneer at you for filling my Facebook feed with the efforts you are making to improve yourself in January. Far from it. I humbly encourage you. I whole-heartedly admire you.
It’s just not for me.
January is the month that arrives with a bang and fizzles out in frosty mornings and floods. It’s a hang-over of a month. Full of grey clouds and inertia. Why don’t we just go along with that? Why struggle against nature. January is a month to prepare for the year ahead slowly, easing yourself into it like a cold bath. I don’t want to make January any harder than it already is.
I suppose the thing that baffles me is our first world need to do thing in extremes. So in December we feel compelled to over-eat, over-drink, over-spend and oh-be-joyful! And then suddenly the guilt of all this over-indulgence crashes down on us, so we must self-flagellate with an app that tells us how many steps we need to do. Personally I don’t need January to be my hair shirt of shame. I would rather that it was my thermal vest of warmth, shielding me from the elements and the year ahead.
So maybe when the mornings get lighter and the sky gets brighter I will dust off my trainers (I can hear my husband raising a disbelieving eyebrow from here). When the sap starts rising then maybe so will my energy levels. Until then I refuse to be sucked in.
So I’ll top up my tea and enjoy my early Easter offerings and slide into this 2016 as comfortably as I can.