Don't Be Fat Another Day!

Nutrisystem has the most ingenious marketing strategy. I know because I watched their commercials with staggering frequency during the week I spent on my couch after new years. On the tiny tv in my imagination, fat people all across the land are mawing down on real pizzas and éclairs, cursing the three months they spent eating tiny, cardboard flavored portions. "Screw this, and screw my resolution!" they proclaim. "I'm ready to be fat another day." Three months after ringing in the new year, I should document my progress on my own resolutions. It's time to decide: Am I going to be fat another day?

Resolutions Update 2008

1. Hang 2008 calendar. It has pictures of kittens wearing hats, and I have no idea why I bought it.
SUCCESS! If I didn't accomplish this one thing, I may as well scrap this entire list. And start wearing sweatpants when I leave my house. Just give up on life in general.

2. Finish the 10-day detox fast I have embarked upon. Currently, I am on day 5 and have lost 8 pounds. It should be noted though, while I am now the thinnest I have been in my adult life, this fast is not about being skinny. This is more about proving to myself that I can accomplish this. Losing 20 pounds is just a super bonus.
SUCCESS!

3. Obviously will lose 20 pounds. Duh.
SUCCESS! Have actually lost 30 pounds since Thanksgiving. I rule.

4. Swim more
SUCCESS though this is a continuous goal throughout the year.

5. Learn to belly dance.
FAIL. I have made no progress on this and still appear to be having some sort of episode requiring medication when I attempt to dance.

6. Go to the movies by myself.
FAIL. It's just too scary.

7. Quit smoking.
Half-FAIL. Technically I quit because I haven't bought cigarettes in a month or so. Yet here I am, smoking, even as I write this. How did that happen?!?

8. Run a 5k, even if it's only against myself.
FAIL. I only went on one jog and I was pretty certain that one of my lungs fell out.

9. Move either to a new city or, at least, into my very own apartment where no one leaves the toilet paper off the roll, puts an empty box of aluminum foil back in the cabinet, or leaves water on the bathroom floor.
FAIL. Big time.

10. Pay off my credit card.
Half-FAIL. I've paid off $500. I'm on the road to success, with a slight detour at the mall.

11. Have breakfast brought to me in bed.
FAIL. I'm no closer to this goal than I was on January 1. Something tells me that this will be the most elusive resolution.

Semantics Won't Get You Laid

Linguistically, 'can't' and 'won't' aren't terribly dissimilar. Common vernacular allows them to be used almost interchangeably. Yet the meaning can (will?) be starkly different. As dictated by the laws of nature, god, society, physics, etc. there is little more than what you can and cannot do. I can put condoms on with my mouth. I cannot alter the past, grant wishes when rubbed, or use x-ray vision. Simple, finite rules that govern most elements of existence.

Ah, but wait! Silly hussy. You forgot about free will. Our (questionable at best) ability to engage free will fucks with the rules. Behavior is not definitively predictable because we have the ability to choose. Enter here the ever present 'won't.' Law, divine or otherwise, is unalterable, unbreakable. But we can bend it with one little word or it's contraction cousin.

You can drunk dial me, but you won't call me on my birthday. You cannot drive, but you will when you want to. I can let you into my house, into my bed whenever you call, but I won't fuck you. I cannot force myself to stop caring, but I will eventually move on. I can see the last 7 months repeating, but I won't let it.