No, I still do not want to eat kale crisps.
No, I don’t want a spiralizer.
No, courgetti still doesn’t taste like pasta.
No, I do not want to know what superfood is now in fashion.
No, I do not want to hear about your NutriBullet or whatever the hell gadget is all the rage this year in terms of blending food into ever more improbable and grim looking mixtures.
No, I do not want to know how to detox in January.
No, I do not want to partake in veganuary, or skinuary or celerbruary or whatever strange new month you have invented as some kind of ‘thing’.
No, I do not want to join Slimming World/Weight Watchers/Slimfast or any other weight loss programme.
No, I do not want to join a gym.
No, I do not want to buy a yoga ball/mat/gym clothes/swimming costume etc.
No, I do not want to have a dry January to mop up the shame of caning it like a man with a cut throat for eleven other months of the year.
I do not want to punish myself.
I do not want to make myself feel bad.
I do not want to starve myself.
I do not want to deny myself.
I do not want to make what is a shitty month/season even shittier.
I do not want to give anything up.
I don’t care. I JUST DON’T CARE.
I don’t feel guilty.
I intend to eat what I like, think what I like, detest kale as much as I did in 2016 and only exercise when my house is on fire and I have to run away.