{Naomi Wilkinson}

While friends lay off the Big Gulps, gyms exceeding maximum occupancy, and co-workers order standing desks, I have a list of things I am not doing. I am not taking local transportation to work. I am not off Dr. Pepper. I am not reading my scriptures daily. I am not watching less Breaking Bad. I am not getting any skinnier.

I did buy myself a $200 pair of headphones.

It’s January. So I’m doing weird stuff, like listening to Taylor Swift’s new album, Reputation and going, “Yes, Taylor. The drama does love me. I haven’t done anything wrong in my life. I am a spoiled white girl, but I’m an innocent spoiled white girl. Yes, Taylor!” And suddenly I’m turning off the music and making my own Swiftesque song about a boy who broke up with me on Myspace in, what?, like 2006? What was that dude’s name?

Something weird happens in January.

And it’s not time to make resolutions. It’s time to mope around feeling sorry for yourself, drink Dr. Pepper, put your hair up in a greasy bun and hide your misery with plum lipstick. Oh, and buy $200 headphones.

Good luck at the gym. If you want support, buy me some Banbury Cross donuts and a camping chair. I’ll come watch.