Less ‘new me’ and more just an upgrade

AFTER years of blocking out the ‘new year, new you’ brigade’s hectoring, I finally decided to tune in and have morphed into a walking, talking, Kale-munching cliché.

For a start, I’ve embarked on a January so dry it should come with its own climate-change warning. I have also dragged myself back to the gym three mornings a week, and have made the first tentative steps towards rebooting my running regime.

And after mainlining tidying guru Marie Kondo’s new Netflix show last weekend, I now find myself knee-deep in ‘stuff ’, wading through the flotsam and jetsam of my life in a bid to find some kind of inner zen.

But as I power-walk to the office each morning, mournfully watching the steamed-up bus trundle by and listening to Allen Carr’s dulcet tones extolling the virtues of my cigarettefree future, I can’t shake the feeling I’m a little late to the booze-free party.

It feels like most people have decided that in 2019, rather than opt for a strict new regime in the pursuit of a betterment, it’s all about comfort and self-care? It’s January, after all, a month defined mainly by its bleakness and the fact it’s not Christmas any more – why would we want to put ourselves through any more hardship, the argument goes.

But it’s too late for me. I am well on my way to an upgraded version of myself and none of you naysayers can derail me.

But I’m happy for you to try. Let’s discuss it – perhaps over a glass of red wine?