Becky says things about … January

Well good day to you my most excellent Listeners! I trust you are in fine fettle and full of the joys and hopes of a shining, sparkling New Year?

Of course you’re not.

It’s January.

The laws of Physics, Biology, Cosmology and other sciencey things dictate that it is virtually impossible to feel anything other than thoroughly depressed in January. It is a terrible month. We plough through December, eating and drinking everything in sight, relying on the fact that on January 1st we shall be injected with a pure elixir of energy, health and enthusiasm for life.

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The reality is quite different.

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Oh, Listener, you have no idea the effort it is taking to drag my lethargic fingers across these keys. Would I rather be binge-watching anything on Netflix with a plate of cheese resting on my stomach? Of course I would. Because that’s what I spent December doing. But January is here now, and January says NO to everything we did in December. December is the really fun yet irresponsible babysitter who lets us eat all the chocolate and watch unsuitable films, but is now passing us back to our stern January parents who are entirely disapproving of the whole thing.

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In the midst of the grey funk of January, we are expected to reinvent ourselves. We are expected to hoist ourselves out of the gluttonous December coma and be inconceivably motivated. I tried to do this, Listener. On Monday I went to the gym. For the first time in about 347 years. Everyone in the gym could be moved into one of three categories:

1) Those who were doing a sterling job of starting their New Year’s health and fitness routine, who had clearly spent the weekend online ordering vitamin powders and home exercise equipment, and who were sprinting, cycling, lifting, pushing, squatting, and sit-upping with the fearsome determination of movie soldiers running in slow motion through a forest in heavy rain to catch the enemy who had just shot their best buddy Herb against a dramatic soundtrack.

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2) Those who desperately wanted to be in the first category, but who couldn’t quite muster the same level of enthusiasm because they were weeping internally for the loss of justified over-indulgence and the ability to consume an entire wheel of truffle brie without challenge. These folks were slumped wretchedly over the rowing machines and staring at themselves in the mirror whilst mourning their lost happiness.

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3) Those for whom January is just another month of incessant smug fitness and energy, and who were watching the New Year’s Resolutions clutter up their gym with a tedious annual predictability, and who were waiting for us to get the hell off the treadmill and stuff our pathetic faces with the pizza we so tragically desired.

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And the weather will not assuage our torment. In December, we can handle the perpetual greyness because it is lit up with a flurry of twinkling lights and the prospect of endless evenings face down in sausagemeat stuffing against a backdrop of numbing festive television. In January, the greyness is just grey. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. No hope. No joy. Nothing.

Just grey.

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We are overweight. We are dehydrated. We are unfit. We have played with our Christmas presents and had to explain ourselves to the family member who spied their gift to us on eBay. We have received the credit card bill. We try to sleep after an evening of peppermint tea and miso salmon, but lie awake inside a body that screams ‘What is this shit? Give me a full-bodied Merlot and a turkey crown this instant!’ We are oh, so aware of the running shoes that have lain unopened in their box since Christmas morning, and which are now pulsing like Kryptonite at the back of the wardrobe where we have pitifully tried to hide them and forget that they exist.

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Oh, Listeners. I wish I could end your seasonal suffering. I wish I could tell you a sprightly jape or provide some words of comfort to pluck you from your January doom.

But I cannot.

January has us in its clutches. January lies like the cold forgotten sausage at the back of your fridge. Hopeless. Useless. An unbearable disappointment.

My only advice to you is: cook some more sausages.

 

AND NOW FOR A SHAMELESS PLUG…

If you’d like something to cheer up your January, why not buy a copy of my book ‘This Ridiculous Life’? Click ‘Buy This Ridiculous Life’ at the top of the page and hey presto! January is immediately better! 

 

 

 

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27 Comments

Filed under Food, Health and Exercise, Life eh?, Rants, Thoughts and Musings

27 responses to “Becky says things about … January

  1. Well done for actually making it to the gym. I’ve not even walked past one yet.

    And it is grey. So, so grey.

    *Waddles to kitchen to forage for sausages*

  2. Kay

    Already owning a copy, I can verify that reading This Ridiculous Life will make you giggle and snort your way through evenings, making you happy (whilst also weirding out anyone you’re in the vicinity of whilst reading…)
    Happy New Year Becky 🙂

  3. I have the credit card bill, the grey sky and succumb to the peppermint tea. But I am not giving up the cheese and taking up running! I refuse to make myself that miserable – I’d rather my arteries look like cheese. 😀

  4. I was suppose to start working on my new body yesterday. But I still had some red wine left in an opened bottle from the weekend.

    I opted for #2 as my thinking was that there would always be another Monday, but would there always be wine left in an open bottle on a Monday?

  5. 2000 I.U. of vitamin D and Zumba keeps me from the depths of despair. I can’t imagine going to a gym…. if it’s not fun, forget it.

  6. Never in the entire history of humanity, has there been justifiable reason for doing squats. Never.

  7. J.R.Barker

    I have started running again, not because it’s january, but because I had so much sugar coursing through my veins it was either that or whizz round the house like a burst balloon.

    • Well at least running is a good use of the excess sugar. I’ve not progressed to running yet – more ‘walking faster than normal’. Running is a big step. I think I need more sugar to progress to running…

  8. Brava! I just love you, Becky. Yes, yes, you said all just right. Give me that plate of cheese. But, hey, you made it the gym!! I’m so proud of you. I haven’t made it there yet. It’s been so hard to get motivated. Sticky looks like he’s in good shape though. Happy New Year! Happy January.

  9. I hope you did well with your book! That has to be a bright spot in the grey, right? Anyway I’m proud of you for doing it 🙂
    I don’t have to diet or gym as I do physical work for an eking. Not a typo especially after that cc bill came in. Definitely eking along.

  10. “Cook some more sausages”…ARE YOU SERIOUS???!!
    😂😂 I found this really funny but true. Nice one

  11. Welcome back, Becky and Stickman! Glad to hear from you….whether you’re eating cheese or not!

  12. Liz

    January is definitely the longest month of the year. Funny how it has the same number of days as July. Hah–even Stick knows which is the longer month. Hoping things start looking up for you and the rest of the I-Hate-January crowd. A few years ago I threw a January Is Over Party and I wish you’d been here for that. Boo January. But Yay Becky!

  13. Actually, it’s March that gets to me. Neither one thing or the other, March just sits there like some sort of stand-in for spring who won’t come out of her trailer until they got the light just right for her close up.

  14. Becky…

    I had back surgery on January 7th. This was a reschedule– it originally was supposed to take place December 31st. The whole notion of failed New Year’s Resolutions of going to the gym means fairly little to me. Why? Because I have been doing physio, water aerobics, and the like… more on than off, for about 5 years.

    Diet resolutions? Pshaw. I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes in the summer of 2014. I decided to take a reduced carb lifestyle seriously– so far, my dietician/nutritionist and my GP (who’s an internal med specialist, to boot) are happy, so, take their word for it if mine does not suffice.

    And because I’m a sick fuck, I have a photo of my surgery incision if you’d like to see it. For real.

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