It's the time of the year for the obligatory New Year's resolutions. You know, what I mean:
I plan to go on a diet and become chic and svelte by Valentine's Day.
I will go to the gym every other day, so help me Hannah. Muscles and enticing curves, or bust.
I will eschew the delights of eating one sugar-soaked Little Debbie after another.
I will... but you get the idea.
There is something abhorrent about admitting that you are imperfect. I don't like it at all.
New Year's
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