Every December 31st, millions of people engage in the same sacred tradition: making elaborate promises to a future version of themselves who definitely isn’t going to follow through.
We call them New Year’s resolutions. We should call them what they really are: expensive fantasies with a two-week expiration date.
The Setup
It starts innocently enough. You’re at a New Year’s Eve party, three drinks deep, and someone asks The Question: “So, what’s your resolution this year?”
You can’t say “nothing” because that makes you sound like you’ve given up on self-improvement entirely. You can’t tell the truth, which is “I’m going to continue being exactly who I am because change is hard and I’m tired.” So you lie. Confidently.
“I’m going to hit the gym five times a week.”
Sure you are, Brad. Sure you are.
The January 1st Delusion
New Year’s Day arrives. You wake up with a hangover that feels like divine punishment, but you’re committed. You’re a new person now. The calendar said so.
You immediately do something insane, like sign up for a gym membership, buy $200 worth of meal prep containers, download seven productivity apps, and start a journal where you write “Day 1 of the new me!!!” with three exclamation points because two wouldn’t properly convey your delusional optimism.
The gym membership includes a “free” personal training session, which is actually a 45-minute sales pitch disguised as exercise. You’ll attend exactly twice: once for the sales pitch, and once three days later when the guilt becomes unbearable. Then never again. But you’ll keep paying $49.99/month until July because canceling requires an act of Congress and a blood oath.
The Categories of Doomed Resolutions
The Fitness Industrial Complex
“This is my year. I’m going to get in shape.”
You’ve said this before. You’ll say it again. The gym knows this. That’s why they oversell memberships in January—they’re banking on you quitting by February. It’s not even subtle. They literally don’t have enough equipment for everyone who signs up because they know 80% of you will ghost them by Valentine’s Day.
And you will. Because getting in shape requires showing up consistently, and consistently is the enemy of human nature.
The Sobriety Charade
“I’m doing Dry January.”
Translation: You drank so much in December that you’re now pretending alcohol is the problem, not your inability to function at social events without it. By January 15th, you’ll be at happy hour explaining why wine doesn’t count because it’s “just fermented grapes” and “basically a salad.”
The Financial Fiction
“I’m going to save money this year.”
This resolution lasts exactly until you see something you want. Could be a coffee. Could be shoes. Could be a subscription to another streaming service you’ll forget you’re paying for. The human brain is remarkably skilled at justifying purchases as “investments in yourself” or “treating yourself because you work hard.”
You do work hard. That’s not the point. The point is your savings account is still empty and your Amazon wish list just got longer.
The Productivity Pyramid Scheme
“I’m going to wake up at 5 AM and be more productive.”
Why? Why would you do this to yourself? You hate mornings. You’ve always hated mornings. Successful people wake up early because they’re successful, not the other way around. But you’ve watched one too many YouTube videos about billionaire morning routines and now you think waking up before dawn will somehow transform you into Elon Musk.
It won’t. It’ll transform you into a sleep-deprived zombie who’s grumpy at 2 PM and asleep on the couch by 8.
The Inevitable Collapse
Here’s what actually happens: January 2nd, you’re all in. January 8th, you’re still trying. January 14th, you miss one gym session because you’re tired. January 15th, you miss another because you already missed one, so what’s the point?
By January 21st, you’re eating pizza at 11 PM while watching Netflix and actively avoiding looking at your journal because seeing “Day 1 of the new me!!!” feels like mockery now.
The meal prep containers? In the back of your cabinet, still in the packaging. The productivity apps? Uninstalled after their notification alerts became more annoying than motivating. The gym membership? A monthly reminder that you’re paying rent on equipment you don’t use.
The Real Problem
The issue isn’t that we lack willpower. It’s that we’ve been sold this idea that January 1st is some magic reset button where we can suddenly become completely different people. It’s not. You’re the same person on January 1st that you were on December 31st. The only difference is you’re now hungover and making promises you can’t keep.
We set these massive, vague goals—”get healthy,” “be more productive,” “save money”—without any actual plan for how to achieve them. Then we’re shocked when life gets in the way and we default back to our comfortable patterns.
The Uncomfortable Truth
You know what actually works? Making small, sustainable changes whenever you’re ready to make them. Not because the calendar told you to. Not because everyone else is doing it. Because you actually want to and you’ve thought through how to make it realistic.
But that’s not sexy. That doesn’t give you something to announce at parties. That’s just… being an adult who makes gradual improvements over time.
So we’ll keep doing this. Every December 31st, we’ll make grand declarations. Every January, we’ll briefly pretend we’re different people. Every February, we’ll quietly abandon our resolutions and pretend we never made them.
See you next January, when we’ll all do this again and act surprised when it doesn’t work out.
At least we’re consistent about being inconsistent.