It’s New Year’s Day and this just isn’t any New Year it’s the start of a new decade. So cue all the stories and lists about how to make this next decade “the best ever.”
If you’re a journalist assigned to do a story on New Year’s resolutions your first wish for 2020 is not to get this assignment. The reason is because there’s really no inventive way to do a “refresh” or update this topic. It’s more recycling than any actual reporting.
This is mainly because the top resolutions never change. Coming in at number one is always weight loss and health. Number two is usually money – making more and spending less. Next up is de-stressing and getting more enjoyment from life and rounding out the resolution parade is looking younger which is now politely called anti-aging or “being the best you.”
This one always makes me roll my eyes to the back of my head. Isn’t aging a good thing? It means you’re still here. I’m also very discouraged about how almost every magazine that caters to a female audience has pounced on the anti-aging bandwagon.
The day Southern Living, the magazine I was raised on, started doing stories on hair styles that take 10 years off your face I felt betrayed. This is a magazine that is supposed to share recipes with a focus on pecans and genteel home décor.
It was my safe space where I didn’t have to read articles that either scared me or made my feel bad about my body from head to toe with features on diminishing hair follicles to the bunion crisis.
Southern Living is where I learned the proper way to monogram my table linens so imagine my sense of deception when they started doings stories on retinol based face creams. It was blasphemy plain and simple.
Trust me, if you’re bringing a stellar King Ranch casserole from a Southern Living recipe to a party no one cares how young you look. Primarily because everybody’s going to love you and no one’s going to be looking at your face because all eyes are on that casserole.
Worse than feeling like your magazine bestie has let you down is being interrupted while writing a New Year’s resolution story by people asking you what your resolutions are. I hate asking that questions and I hate answering it.
Besides my list is lame. Don’t believe me? Well, then here it is.
My favorite resolution is to intensify my love affair with my pets. There’s nothing like being an almost empty nest to make your pets the center of your world.
True story – during the last snowstorm my husband and I lovingly stared out our French doors and got all the warm and fuzzy feels watching our dogs play in the snow. I turned to my husband and confessed, “These dogs might be better than our kids.”
My husband, always the gentle diplomat, didn’t readily agree with me but I know he probably was thinking the same thing. Come on, it’s all the love and none of the drama. That’s hard to compete with.
Another resolution is to continue my Goldilocks like pursuit of finding the perfect red lipstick. Don’t scoff. This has been a 30 year mission that has to date alluded me. Red lipsticks either have too much blue or orange undertones thus making even the whitest teeth look like canned corn niblets.
My final 2020 pledge is to touch my toes. Yep, you read that right. In my entire life I have never been able to touch my toes. This is finally going to be the year.
I hope your 2020 resolution list is just as profound.
Snarky in the Suburbs 