There is something about this whole business of embracing the first day of a new year with a calculated aggressiveness that just doesn’t sit well with me. Not that I’m against doing everything you can to set yourself up for a happy and healthy new year – that, I am totally behind.
But my beef is more with the commonly agreed upon notion that you can stuff yourself silly in the dwindling moments of what will soon to be “last year” (who’s fate is supposedly already sealed) with the expectation that the moment the clock strikes twelve and those last drops of champagne wash down the last morsels of caviar blini, you’ve got to hit that proverbial New Year’s ground running.
With the glittery ball down and your glittery dress off, come January one, there will be no more excess. No more holiday hams, no more Christmas puddings. Your lily’s…
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