Life’s a piece of cake with good advice
New Year’s resolutions are strange, self defeating things. They’re almost always impossible to stick to, and mostly forgotten within a week of going back to everyday, post-holiday life. Yet the impulse to make them is almost too strong to resist – I’ve been making my list of outlandish promises for this year to myself all week.
First was a vow to never eat Christmas mince pies again (stupid), then to only eat from a small saucer from now on (unlikely) and, most recently, in a moment of panic brought on by realising I’d just eaten ‘‘second dinner’’ like some kind of giant hobbit, I vowed to limit myself to one dinner a day (distinctly possible).
But rather than a list of things I already know I have no intention of doing (they can prise that wedge of Toblerone from my cold, dead hand), or even an edgy list of non-resolutions, here are the five best pieces of advice I ever got about life (that also apply to food):
Be kinder to my friend
One time, when I was in full self flagellation mode after stuffing my face, I described myself to a pal as ‘‘a disgusting lardo’’. I often talked about myself as if I was the grossest thing on two legs. On this occasion, my mate had had enough.
‘‘Don’t talk about my friend Kylie like that,’’ she said.
It was the wake-up call I needed. I would never talk about another person the way I talked about myself to myself. Never. If we can be our own worst enemies that easily, why not try being our own best friends instead? You are actually ridiculously easy to love and support. I love and support you and we haven’t even met.
Eat it or not, I don’t care
One time I was telling someone about eating a ‘‘naughty’’ piece of cake when they said, ‘‘Food doesn’t have a moral value. It’s just food. It’s not ‘naughty’. It’s a piece of cake. Eat it, don’t eat it. I don’t care. What’s ‘naughty’ is making food another thing to give yourself a hard time about.’’
We have a weird way of talking about food, which reflects the weird relationship we sometimes have with it. We use it for a bunch of things we probably shouldn’t, like managing our feelings. It might be a good idea to mentally put it back in its proper place.
It’s fuel. It’s not a crutch, not a part of your value as a human being, not a gift you give or deny yourself. It keeps you alive.
Wait
No one wants to wait for anything any more. We can’t wait a week for an episode of a TV show. We don’t want to wait for a snack, we feel like we’re being oppressed if we can’t get a goddamn bag of crisps 30 seconds after we imagine we want it.
One of the best pieces of advice I’ve been given is to try waiting for stuff. Wait 48 hours to see if you really want that thing you just saw and had no idea existed five minutes ago. Wait before you reply to that comment on the internet. Do you really need to start that s... fight? You’ll know in two minutes if you do or not. Wait, have a glass of water and see if you’re still hungry in 10 minutes. See, you weren’t, you were just bored/thirsty/peevish.
(There are times when you shouldn’t wait: If you think you need a hospital or a doctor, or if you’re thinking of calling a friend or relative you haven’t spoken to in a while. Don’t wait for that. Do it now. In fact, don’t even finish this article, just put it down and call.
Feeling connected to our friends and family can fill that gaping hole way faster than a packet of biscuits or a bottle of wine can.)
Tidy your room
No, Jordan Peterson didn’t invent this one. He just reiterated what any adult knows: the inner peace, calm and security of knowing that no matter how bad your day turns out, you have a nice, neat, clean bed waiting for you at home.
The mental space a tidy bedroom brings is not to be under-estimated. Take it from me, a woman who has at times lived like a pig in a sty.
When I think about how tidy my room is right now, I feel like I could take on the world – I feel like I’m in control, and feeling in control of your life is excellent.
You don’t have to clean your whole house – you’re not made of time – but your bedroom is a sacred space where you do sacred things, like put on your sexiest undies and pretend to be Ariana Grande live at the Hollywood Bowl or clip your toenails while wearing a nightmarish face mask and talking to yourself. It should be treated like the shrine to self care that it is.
Just as you are
It’s not really advice, more of a statement, and it wasn’t given to me, it was given to Bridget Jones in the best Christmas rom-com of all time.
(Yes, better than Love, Actually, which I hate.) It’s that scene, you know the one, where dreamboat Mark Darcy – played by real-life dreamboat Colin Firth – tells Bridget Jones – played by the divine Renee Zellweger – he likes her just the way she is.
‘‘I like you very much, just as you are,’’ he says. He actually says that. It’s not smooth, or even flirty. It’s kind. To tell someone you like them ‘‘just as they are’’, without sugar-coating their faults, is to acknowledge the deepest, most painful struggle we soft, squishy humans face: the struggle to be seen and loved anyway.
You can do that for yourself right now. Go on. For the next five minutes, tell yourself you like you as Mark Darcy would. Tomorrow, increase it to 10 minutes, the day after that make it 15 minutes.
Cut out a picture of Mark Darcy and stick it on your fridge and every time you see it give yourself a smile and say ‘‘I like you very much, just as you are.’’
You keep doing that for the next 365 days and I reckon you’ll nail 2019. Hell, you’ll nail life.