There’s so much pressure on us to improve ourselves at this time of year, but just possibly we are OK as we are There is something ancient within us, a burial ground behind our gut perhaps, which insists the cycle of new year must bring internal change. Why else would we reach for resolutions as soon as we’ve retched the last of December into the loo, repopulating our gut with promises we know we won’t keep? It is the beginning of the year, so we must admit the drinks we drink are wrong, the food we eat will kill us, the clothes we wear expose our lack of understanding about cultural signifiers of class, and that we are sometimes sad. We must change. But what if, what if we… don’t? What if change is bad? No, bear with me. What if, most of us, we’re OK as we are? What if we accept that we will never have the upper arms of a professional swimmer, nor a marriage of the kind seen in the background of romcoms? What if we acknowledge that perpetual happiness would not be a rational reaction to the world or indeed to life as a human, and that the constant pursuit of such a thing often obscures our view of existing contentment? What if this year we decide that we’re, sort of, basically good enough?
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