New Year, New Me
(I don’t think so)
The echo of the midnight bells still ring in our ears as 2026 is only hours old, but the self-improvement ads are already coming for us.
“Lose weight!”
“Write that book!”
“Make more money!”
The economy of the world depends on our feelings of inadequacy. The beauty industry has reliably hammered women’s self-esteem with reasons why we need this cream, that powder, and all the tools. I could write for days on the beauty advice pushed on women over the years.
What if I like myself just the way I am?
I’ve been on this planet for nearly six decades (gasp) and I’m finally learning to be comfortable in my own skin – this saggy, baggy skin pocked with age spots and cellulite.
When I was young and pretty, I lived with the belief that I was not very attractive. I should be taller, thinner, firmer. My overbite made me look like a chipmunk, but I never had the money for orthodontics. Now, I look back on old photos of myself and wish I still looked that good. Hindsight is 20/20.
These days, menopause has rearranged some things. My curves seem to concentrate on my midsection, creating a tummy bulge that mimics early pregnancy long after my eggs have flown the coop. That magnificent pair of tatas has retired and moved south for the winter. I don’t feel too bad about it; even the Roman Empire fell eventually.
The craziest part of this situation is that I’ve never felt more at home in my own body. This meat suit and I have been through some stuff together – puberty, menopause, and everything in between, including multiple major surgeries.
I’m still proud of this body, but it no longer has anything to do with how it looks in a bikini. This pride stems from how well it bounces back from injuries, surgeries, and illness. How it still gets me around with a reasonable amount of mobility despite some aches and pains. I’m still able to do most of the things I want to do, although some days are better than others.
I’ve learned to give this body some grace on the days she doesn’t want to do what I want. The spirit may be willing, but the flesh says, “go screw yourself.” Those days are best spent with a good book and a long nap, accompanied by my little dog.
The person inside my body, the ghost in the machine, has taken a lot more work for me to accept. I’m quirky, sarcastic, moody, and sometimes a major pain in the derriere. But years of therapy and stacks of self-help books have helped. I’ve come to terms with my issues and learned to be a better person than I used to be. At least I hope so.
Life itself is a war of attrition. None of us are getting out alive, and very few people make it to the end without losing bits of themselves along the way – usually a few teeth, an appendix, possibly a uterus. In my case, a heart. You’ve got to make the most of what you’ve got while you’ve got it because nothing lasts forever.
I’ll never be perfect
One of my favorite sayings is “Don’t let the pursuit of the perfect be the enemy of the good.”
My interpretation is that we sometimes spend so much time trying to make something perfect that we are never able to see that it is good enough. We get 99% of the way to perfection then waste the rest of our time trying to close the gap on that final 1%. Even without grading on a curve, 99% is still an A.
It’s like preparing Thanksgiving dinner and realizing that the turkey is done cooking, but the skin isn’t a perfect golden brown so you spend all your time in the kitchen trying to make it perfect and don’t bother making the side dishes. Personally, I’d rather have a pale turkey with all the taters and gravy to go with it than a perfectly browned bird by itself.
All this is to say that I will be dragging my pale turkey carcass into the new year and focusing more on my side dishes. And dessert. Must have pie.
Can we burn 2025 in effigy?
There are some years where we should burn the calendar as a gesture of closure, kind of like a funeral, but more like a roast. 2020 – the plague year – was one of them. 2025 ranks up there for me with the multiple illnesses and deaths in my family along with the collapse of the world as we know it. I’m sure many of you feel the same. It seems to have been a universally lousy year for most of the people I know.
My hopes for 2026
Hope & Healing, Health & Happiness.
I will never give up hope. Maybe I’m too stupid to surrender, but hope will always be my home. Contrary to Emily’s depiction of hope as the “thing with feathers,” I see Hope as the girl with blood on her knuckles and dirt under her fingernails.
In 2025, more of my writing was published than ever before, but I need to credit the work of 2024 for that success. I sent out hundreds of submissions in 2024 – triple what I did in 2023 and about double what I managed to do in 2025. I wrote less new material this past year as my writing time was gobbled up by caregiving responsibilities. I look forward to finishing several works-in-progress in the coming year and trying to find homes for them.
This year, I plan to recommit to my health by returning to regular gym visits and redoubling my efforts to avoid things that spike my blood sugar and cholesterol – goodbye ice cream. It seems like those same items spike my happiness, so I will have to find other things to make me smile. Thank goodness I can still drink coffee, without sugar or cream. Sugar free creamers exist, but are they actually healthy, or even tasty?
Thank goodness puppy cuddles are zero calorie mood boosters!
Here’s to making 2026 a better year than 2025!
Wishing you all a happy, healthy, hopeful year ahead.
Stay Tuned!
January 6, 2026 will be TWENTY YEARS since my heart transplant!
I will have a special offer for all of you to celebrate the momentous occasion!
Thanks for starting my year out with inspiration and a good laugh. Your line "even the Roman Empire fell eventually" took me out! 🤣
Happy New Year!