Remember New Year’s Eve parties? I enjoy them so much more in my 30s. By now, everyone I know has outgrown the self-imposed pressure to have an epic night out someplace with an expensive cover charge and 1 million people, none of whom you will actually talk to. The 30s New Year’s Eve takes place in an apartment mostly filled with people you already know. You can go to the bathroom whenever you want and have a conversation without screaming yourself hoarse over the year’s most annoying song. It’s still December so you can also eat like an animal and drink like a fish if you’re so inclined because “new year, new me” is still pending.

There is just one downside: the inescapable talk of New Year’s resolutions.

Don’t get me wrong; I love a New Year’s resolution. I had 20 for 2020 and I hit 11 of the 14 resolutions not derailed by the pandemic. My best buddy in Indiana wasn’t part of my bubble and the triathlon I signed up for was canceled, so there’s that. But my love for resolutions doesn’t make conversations about them any less depressing.

Make Resolutions Realistic

Full of cheese and champagne, many people at New Year’s Eve parties vow to turn over a new leaf in a few days—everyone knows January 1st is still a holiday and doesn’t really count—as they cut out sugar or carbs or alcohol, or even all three as they start the latest fad diet. These draconian programs are such a stark contrast from how most of us normally eat that they feel punitive, like a nutritional prison sentence.

Countless studies have found that roughly 80% of New Year’s resolutions fail by February. More than half of those are sunk by a lack of discipline, which makes sense. Resolutions are habits, which are created by repetition. That repetition is far more achievable if the habit you’re looking to build actually feels possible. Going to the gym five days a week sounds great in theory, but if your last appearance at the gym was last January, it’s unrealistic. That makes it easier to abandon altogether.

I did not need this. Photo credit; Mike O’Brien — *I did not need this.*
Photo credit; Mike O’Brien

Saving money, another common New Year’s resolution, is something I struggle with because I frankly really enjoy spending money on nonsense. That’s why I had monthly payments to the federal government after wildly underestimating how heavily freelance income is taxed and owing the IRS almost $6,000. Oops. Last year, I focused on paying that off early (I did) rather than the loftier “get out of debt.” I could have hunkered down like a miser and given every spare dollar to the Student Loan Industrial Complex, but I knew I wouldn’t really do that.

Make Resolutions Motivational

Soda is a vice of mine. I’ve been meaning to quit forever, but the problem is, I love Cherry Coke Zero enough that I’ve never been particularly deterred by the fact that it’s gross and full of chemicals. Avoiding phenylalanine doesn’t motivate me, but games do.

Turning the goal into a game was my strategy for drinking significantly less soda in 2020 than any other year ever. I downloaded the Betterment app and started another savings account designed to be out of sight, out of mind. For every day I didn’t drink soda, I earned $2.50, which, rounded up a little, is roughly how much one bottle costs at 7-Eleven. At the end of the year, my prize would be some undetermined amount of money to be spent on something fun and frivolous.

This tattoo cost approximately 200 sodas. Photo credit: Mike O’Brien — ***This tattoo cost approximately 200 sodas.***
Photo credit: Mike O’Brien

Right before Thanksgiving, I got this Poseidon tattoo, paid entirely from that Betterment account, which even had a little left over. Because I normally would have spent that money on something else, a series of small purchases that add up over time, it felt free. Reducing my soda intake by about two-thirds last year also gives me confidence that this year, I’ll finally cut it out altogether.

I think a little success inspires a little more, which is why my lists are always a mix of long-term and lightweight goals. In 2021, I want to spend an entire day at the Museum of Natural History, something I know I’d enjoy but wouldn’t normally think to prioritize. If the museum came up in conversation, would I say, “Oh, I love that place”? Yes. Have I been there in the past eight years? No. Writing that goal down is a reminder, but it also helps me tailor the list in my favor. Crossing one item off makes me feel like I’m doing well, which motivates me to do continue and focus on the longer-term resolutions.

Make Resolutions Fun

At a New Year’s party a few years ago, I got an idea for spicing up New Year’s, inspired by Christmas. During the 19th Century, German Protestants burnt a new candle every day in December, counting down to Christmas. This practice evolved to hanging devotional decorations on the wall and eventually, Advent calendars as those who are familiar know them to be.

In my house, the calendar typically housed tiny wooden Christmas tree ornaments. Every morning, I’d wake up and take one out, and add it to the tree. I could have just taken all 25 out immediately, but it was more fun to stagger it and see what surprise each day held. Inspired by this idea, I decided to make a similar nutritional calendar.

I wrote out 28 assignments on scraps of paper and put them in a pill container—one you can get at just about any local pharmacy, or online. The pillbox advent calendar approach worked well enough that I still use it, currently to mix up my at-home workouts to keep them from getting tedious and repetitive. Some days call for vegan eating, others for excluding sugar. But some tasks go the other way with invitations to “Treat Yo Self,” (which you just read like Tom and Donna from Parks and Rec, right?).

I think the calendar clicked for me because it made healthy eating more fun and also has built-in lunch breaks, meant to fuel your resolve and give it the fuel to tackle the rest of the day. It’s easier to not eat pizza when you know it will be “pizza day” in the near future—maybe even tomorrow? Hopefully tomorrow.