Wine, Cheryl Cole and drunken texting ... how I failed miserably with my New Year's resolutions
Just eight days into January and I am noticing a revolution. People all around me do not seem to be taking up the standard New Year’s resolution.
It’s not enough to decide to join a gym or give up chocolate anymore. The general public have decided January is rubbish enough and will not come up with a resolution that will only make it worse for them. They want more.
Dry January is not just about giving up wine. It’s about raising money for charity. The new Weightwatchers campaign is not about losing weight, it’s about what you will gain from life.
With that in mind, I decided to make a resolution that will actually make a difference. I compiled a list of my favourite things with the goal of banishing them from my life for my own good. At least for January.
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Wine, Cheryl Cole and my phone came right at the top. Granted, most people would find Chezza harmless, but as a 27-year-old, self-confessed stalker, I decided maybe, just maybe, it was time to curb my obsession?
Wine. I absolutely love the stuff.
As for my phone … just ask anybody who has tried to take it out of my sight for longer than five seconds what happens. It’s not pretty.
And the worst problem? Mixing wine and phone together.
The drunken text is simply the single girl’s nemesis. ‘DO NOT LET ME TEXT’, I shout whilst sipping on the first glass of wine and casually deleting the number in question. Three glasses of wine in, I’m feeling quietly confident texting is, actually, the right thing to do and wracking my brain for the deleted number. Five glasses of wine and a small shot later I have three girls trying to wrestle my trusty Blackberry from my vice-like grip whilst I scream ‘I’M TEXTING MY MUM, HONESTLY’.
And of course, it’s not just texts. Why send something that can be ignored or deleted by one recipient when I can pour my heart out on to a Facebook wall? What a fantastic way to really air my views and let people know exactly how I am feeling.
Whilst I’m there, I’ve found it’s an ideal time to declare myself in a relationship with the random I’ve just met in the street. Great fun when you wake up to 25 likes and comments ranging from ‘I didn’t know you were seeing him’ to ‘You’ve been on the wine, haven’t you’, and my old favourite ‘That’s my boyfriend!’
Even when I have taken it a stage too far and cannot manage an entire sentence, I have Twitter. It doesn’t even matter if my 140 characters make no sense whatsoever. Sticking a hash tag at the front makes it just fine.
Of course, just in case anybody needs photographic evidence of what I’m up to, there’s no time like the present to show my entire social network how hilarious I look with my face in the New Year trifle.
I, and many other people, know all of these things add up to one big Sunday morning mess. New Year’s Eve was meant to be the last time I woke up with the shape of my phone indented in my face and 50 missed calls replying to the voicemail of me, literally, just wailing. But it’s all too tempting.
My third best friend, LP, was a little more realistic with her NYR. She wanted to attend a cooking class. Luckily for me, she sacked it off and decided to make some elaborate creation from her new Aussie recipe book using me as a guinea pig. Unluckily for her, I am currently necking the bottle of wine she has opened for cooking and am too busy editing a photo of the finished food to upload to Instagram and tweet at Cheryl .
New Year’s resolutions? Maybe next year.