Resolutions? We don't need no stinking resolutions

Every Jan. 1, millions of people wake up convinced this is the year they become a new person.

A better person.

A person who wakes up to jog at dawn. A person who eats kale and baby spinach for breakfast, lunch and dinner and avoids all foods with taste. A person who dives into making a budget and sticks to it with a fervor. A person who swears off social media, or at least earnestly hopes to cut back their time staring at a small screen.

You know, the New Year’s Resolution Brigade.

Sadly, by Jan. 12 that person who had such highfalutin intentions has vanished, last seen grabbing a few extra winks at 9:32 a.m., hiding behind a bag of tortilla chips and a bowl of ice cream by the couch, purchasing the new Taylor Swift CD and accompanying 3D poster, T-shirt, coasters and DVD, or smashing through six straight hours of cute Panda Bears jumping rope or people doing face plants on Facebook, Instagram or whatever social media outlet floats their boat.

New Year’s resolutions are not plans so much as optimistic works of fiction. They are the literary equivalent of saying, “I’ll just have one cookie,” while holding the entire sleeve.

Take what is perhaps the most time-honored classic resolutions: “I’m going to get in shape” or “I’m going to lose X number of pounds.”

It always sounds so ridiculously reasonable, so much so they make a “to-do” checklist, full of the usual suspects:

—Buy new gym shoes.

—Look up diet and workout videos.

—Create a new, healthy menu.

—Do at least 30 minutes of cardio a day.

—Et cetera.

Then those new and often far-too-expensive shoes live in the trunk of your car, having been worn six or seven times. They sit in the back seat of your vehicle, silently judging you every time you drive past the gym on your way to get that large latte grande with extra whipped cream and sugar.

The workout videos? Replaced by crushing five hours a night of rewatching "The Sopranos" for the fourth time.

That menu? It slid down the crack of the couch as they sat idly chowing down on Crunch & Munch and Little Debbies.

The treadmill they bought is now home to 11 boxes of Christmas decorations waiting to be put away.

They are all noble ventures, vows that last until they discover salads are mostly leaves. Suddenly, pizza is no longer junk food; it is a reimagining of something healthy because every one of the five food groups is on it.

Then there’s “I’m going to save money this year.” This is often declared loudly and proudly to no one in particular, days before they buy that foot massager because it’s on sale and invest in that new widget because “everyone has one.”

By February the savings plan is reduced to checking their bank app with one eye closed and whispering to themself, “I’ll start saving tomorrow.”

The problem is tomorrow rarely arrives.

Some people aim high with the “I’m going to read more” resolution. This determination usually results in purchasing several ambitious novels that will be stacked neatly on a nightstand, the words inside never to see the light of day.

Instead, they’ll read the latest internet articles because commitment is hard, and besides, why invest untold hours, days and even months reading “My Oxford Year” when I can watch it in two hours on Netflix?

And let’s not forget “I’m going to spend less time on my phone.” This resolution is typically typed, posted, liked and shared … on the phone, which leads to hours of scrambling down rabbit holes … on the phone.

The problem with New Year’s resolutions is they assume the calendar has magical powers, as if Jan. 1 flips a switch and suddenly we’re disciplined, motivated and immune to our human desires.

But the truth is we’re the same people we were on Dec. 31.

Maybe this year we should try more honest resolutions. Things like:

—I will stop pretending I enjoy running.

—I will acknowledge that “just five more minutes” means 40 more minutes.

—I understand “I’m leaving five minutes earlier to work” means catching the end of your favorite TV show still takes precedent.

—I will continue to be a work in progress, preferably from the couch.

Because if we’re going to break our resolutions anyway, we might as well enjoy them while they last.

After all, there’s always next year. And next year, for sure, we’ll all use that gym membership.

Probably.