The other night I was watching Bridget Jones staggering around her living room, singing into her hairbrush, glass of red wine in hand. Last night, I was staggering around a friend's living room, singing out of tune and dancing badly to Take That, glass of white wine in hand. Yes, we're a decade on and little has changed, not even the soundtrack of my life.
Bridget Jones's new year starts with the resolutions - I will not drink more than fourteen alcohol units a week. smoke. waste money. spend more than earn. get annoyed with men. get upset with mum, etc.
Thinking about my own list of new year's resolutions, I can't say that they are vastly different. But we are ten years on - ten years and I still drink more than I probably should, regress into sulky teenager mode whenever I'm with my mum, have every intention to exercise but always find a good reason not to, spend money on things I don't really need, dance like a dick at parties, and fantasise about the elusive Mr Darcy. I have one year left in my thirties, I thought by now I would be a fully fledged grown up but inside I still feel like a wide-eyed twenty-something, not really knowing what I'm doing with my life or where to take it.
So I've decided this is the year I shall come of age. Stop talking about why I can't do things and start just getting on and doing them. I'm a bit of a late developer but have finally realised that the only person who can make that happen is me. So last week I made my first steps to the new me and went swimming for the first time since Isla was born.
Thirty laps in and I was feeling pretty chuffed with myself. I'd easily kept pace with people in the medium lane and had often had to slow down for others so I decided to do my final ten laps in the fast lane. Big mistake. There's an unwritten rule in the fast lane that you NEVER do breast stroke and its not cool to stop for a breather when you get to the other end. Adamant I wouldn't suffer the humiliation of being lapped, I went flat out and within four laps my heart was pounding, I felt physically sick and if I didn't drown first I was convinced I'd faint. I came out coughing and panting with jelly legs, a lifeguard hovering nervously nearby.
But buoyed with my new found physical prowess, that evening I put on my 'bounce and shape' DVD which has sat winking at me by the side of the TV for the last 3 years while I've lounged around watching my bottom gradually spread across the armchair. I got out my swiss ball and started following the beginners routine.
So the plan is to swim every Sunday, do my DVD twice a week and do more writing on the other days. Today is of course Sunday and I haven't quite made it back to the pool, but given the amount of alcohol I consumed last night I think it might have posed a health and safety risk. And I haven't quite managed to get the DVD working again yet as its been a very hectic week of ironing and web surfing. Which in itself was an important part of the new me as I took the bull by the horns and booked flighst to Egypt (which sort of broke the 'only spend what you can afford' resolution but small steps, small steps).
Of course, my biggest objective for 2012 is to be more open to dating opportunities, because as my life soundtrack so profoundly goes ... 'When I was young, I never needed anyone, making love was just for fun, those days are gone.' And if there's anything the last ten years has taught me its that Mr Darcy is just fiction and if I can meet a kind, honest decent man who I can rub along with then my 2013 diary will start on a very happy note.
Bridget Jones's new year starts with the resolutions - I will not drink more than fourteen alcohol units a week. smoke. waste money. spend more than earn. get annoyed with men. get upset with mum, etc.
Thinking about my own list of new year's resolutions, I can't say that they are vastly different. But we are ten years on - ten years and I still drink more than I probably should, regress into sulky teenager mode whenever I'm with my mum, have every intention to exercise but always find a good reason not to, spend money on things I don't really need, dance like a dick at parties, and fantasise about the elusive Mr Darcy. I have one year left in my thirties, I thought by now I would be a fully fledged grown up but inside I still feel like a wide-eyed twenty-something, not really knowing what I'm doing with my life or where to take it.
So I've decided this is the year I shall come of age. Stop talking about why I can't do things and start just getting on and doing them. I'm a bit of a late developer but have finally realised that the only person who can make that happen is me. So last week I made my first steps to the new me and went swimming for the first time since Isla was born.
Thirty laps in and I was feeling pretty chuffed with myself. I'd easily kept pace with people in the medium lane and had often had to slow down for others so I decided to do my final ten laps in the fast lane. Big mistake. There's an unwritten rule in the fast lane that you NEVER do breast stroke and its not cool to stop for a breather when you get to the other end. Adamant I wouldn't suffer the humiliation of being lapped, I went flat out and within four laps my heart was pounding, I felt physically sick and if I didn't drown first I was convinced I'd faint. I came out coughing and panting with jelly legs, a lifeguard hovering nervously nearby.
But buoyed with my new found physical prowess, that evening I put on my 'bounce and shape' DVD which has sat winking at me by the side of the TV for the last 3 years while I've lounged around watching my bottom gradually spread across the armchair. I got out my swiss ball and started following the beginners routine.
Isla soon joined in with her Peppa Pig space hopper and was twisting and turning along side me. Unfortunately I got a bit stuck on the sit ups but my little friend hauled me up. It was all going quite well until Isla decided to adopt the role of personal trainer and shout, 'more mummy, you need to do more, you're going too slowly!'.
Of course, my biggest objective for 2012 is to be more open to dating opportunities, because as my life soundtrack so profoundly goes ... 'When I was young, I never needed anyone, making love was just for fun, those days are gone.' And if there's anything the last ten years has taught me its that Mr Darcy is just fiction and if I can meet a kind, honest decent man who I can rub along with then my 2013 diary will start on a very happy note.
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