Resolute

Happy 2008, y'all.

It's gonna be a good year. I just have a feeling.

Mags and I had a less boring night than we'd anticipated, but that doesn't imply that it was all that fun. I went to bed around 10:30 (shut up), thinking I'd read and watch the rest of the CSI marathon. And I started to doze off about an hour later, but fortunately, my neighbors had devised a couple of ways to keep me up. First of all, they had their music cranked up so loud my walls were vibrating with the bass (seriously. And it was that Chicano pop with the accordion in it, you know? I thought I was in the barrio for a minute, there). And then there were the firecrackers, which let me tell you, Maggie was none too pleased with. I, on the other hand, always like firecrackers and thunder, because it means the dog gets snuggly. However, for some reason she wouldn't actually get onto the bed (trying to stay out of the line of fire, maybe?), so she just sat at the foot of my bed and whimpered until I gave in and picked all 45 pounds of her up under the armpits and lugged her into bed with me. Apparently there were also a lot of "issues" in our humble little town last night, too, because the police and the fire department kept going by, sirens blaring. Made me a little homesick, really.

And then...we're lying there watching South Park, bundled up and Maggie staying low to avoid stray bullets, and we hear this very distinct whine. Maggie pops her head up, ears at the ready, looks at the window, looks at me, looks at the window, looks at me, all, "Someone's in trouble! Kate! We have to rescue him!" And the dog outside whimpers again, this very wrenching, oh, help, I'm stuck! kind of whimper. So I look out the window, and I see nothing, but I hear him, and I whistle, and he whines in response, and I whistle again, thinking he'll come closer, but he only whines harder. And Maggie's freaking out, and I said, okay, okay, we'll go look. So I go out in the back yard, in my flannel pants and my hoodie sweatshirt, all bed-headed and in my flip-flops, armed with Maggie's leash and a pocket full of treats, while she eagerly kept guard in the dining room behind the screen door. And I whistle, and I follow the whimpering....

My neighbors - the ones in the barrio - have apparently gotten themselves a puppy. Whom they tied outside last night. Woe is him. I watched him for a minute through the little divider fence thingie that separates my patio from theirs, to make sure he wasn't stuck or caught or anything, told him he was okay, and a good boy, and went back inside to reassure my dog.

Boy, he was cute, though. I'd say he's some sort of bully breed, maybe 6 or 8 weeks old? Sooo cute. I almost slipped him a treat under the fence just for being so cute.

And then midnight came, and there were more firecrackers, and the music got louder, and I wished Maggie a happy new year and went to find some cotton to shove in my ears. The music persisted until about 4. My friends from Chicago (with whom I usually spend NYE) called around 1, though, that was nice.

So now it's 2008. And the day of resolutions is upon us. TLC is airing a full day marathon about the grotesquely fat and the so fat they've been institutionalized and bariatric surgery and the Half Ton Man and "I eat 33,000 calories a day" and, and, and. I guess this is supposed to be motivational? Great. Reinforce how scary and horrible and disgusting it is to be fat. So we all keep our resolutions to lose weight. Turn these poor people into sideshow freaks. ::sigh::

What's disgusting is how they're mass-marketing our insecurities and reinforcing one of the last acceptable social biases. Can you imagine a day-long marathon of "Why it's bad to be black"? Or "How it's grotesque to be gay"? Wow, people would be up in arms, and rightfully so. But this is "motivational".

I will admit to watching several episodes of Inside Brookhaven Obesity Clinic, which I actually liked. The director of this place in NYC was very realistic, stressing diet and exercise and positive motivation over long periods of time, focusing on health and well-being, and was quite accommodating to the different and individual needs of "75 of the fattest people in America". He was very reasonable about, you know, these are people with eating disorders, there's no quick fix here that's going to work. He was quite realistic about the addiction component of it and how "food" wasn't really the issue, that the psychological drama motivating it was what needed to be addressed. He was very against bariatric surgery, for all the reasons I am as well, but understood that his clients were adults and would facilitate appointments with a competent surgeon if that's what they insisted they wanted. Despite the sensationalism of the program and the overriding melodramatics in the production of it, he came off as a very stable guy who genuinely cared, and didn't make his patients into villains or deviants. Which was rather refreshing.

And then the show about the bypass surgeons came on. And I rolled my eyes and changed the channel to something more humane. Like, "When Animals Attack."

Why is it that our resolutions are always about our perceived faults? We belittle ourselves and typically set ourselves up for failure, every January 1st, perpetuating a cycle of self-deprecation and insecurity and defeat every time we get a symbolic new start. How clean is that slate, really? And why don't we ever resolve to retain and strengthen the traits we like? Why isn't it ever, "I was a very generous and compassionate person this year when I did _______. In the coming year I resolve to continue that behavior and perpetuate it by doing ______."?

I think that should be our MO this year. Find strength instead of fault in your new year's resolutions. Accentuate what you've been doing right. And couch even your assertions of change in a positive manner ("I resolve to continue eating vegetables this year and to encourage myself every time I make a healthy choice"). You're more likely to be successful, and I bet they'll be even that much more satisfying when you are.