My truly impressive ability to stick at absolutely nothing.

The new year is here, and I have made a resolution make absolutely no resolutions. Or lists, no lists...unless it's a to-do list as the only listing on that list is 'Ryan Gosling'.

Another January con which I am in no way subscribing my derriere to is the January detox, the dry January or the "fools guide to the galaxy" as it is more appropriately known. Why, in the most miserable month of the year, you would actively choose to make yourself even more miserable is beyond me. Instead, in the words of our formerly full figured friend Miss Jones; 'I choose Chaka Khan and vodka.' Mainly vodka.

Whilst I am in no way encouraging the consumption of alcohol, I am in no way condemning it. And here's why. The essential part of any detox is not rocket science. It is state school, bunsen burning, GCSE at it's best. Many expensive pills, potions and powders promise to rid you of those pesky toxins that have taken up residence in your lady area. Now, being a proud owner of both a lady area and a B in GCSE Science (double award huh hummm), I shall translate. They make you pee. Well, so does beer. More so. So Siri, I shall take my fruit in a martini please as no pleasure quite so sweet is worth giving up for the extra two years spent in a geriatric home in sunny Southend.

As for diets, where do I begin. I like to view the world plainly. In all it's glory. Do not try and convince me that the fast diet will make feel like Gywneth Paltrow floating on a river of liquid gold whilst Kodaline serenade me about smashing bottles and fizzy willies. It was Paltrow herself who said 'Beauty fades! I just turned 29...so I probably don't have that many good years left in me.' Well, if my maths is correct that equates to six years left of my "beautiful life" to do with what I choose. I have two options, do I munch on a celery stick and complain my protruding hip bones or do I live a little and create stories my grandchildren will want to listen to. PG 13'd of course. As far as I see it, life is about finding the balance between cigarettes and tofu.

A balance I am yet to find.

I am aware that, Houston, I have a problem. I have a truly impressive ability to stick at absolutely nothing. Haircuts, diet plants, relationships, Starbucks orders...blogs. I am a free agent with a dodgy success record, a marathon runner never to see the finish line, I am the coupon which promises you a free lippy...as long as you spend twice the cost of the promise first. But only the worst kinds of people are ever done of evolving. I do not look in the mirror and think 'hold the phone, call off the search party this, this is the absolute definition of perfection.' I am forever enrolled in the school of me.

So calm down my wee chums, Rome was not built in day. We do not need to usher in the new year with grand declarations of what we will do differently whilst tweeting 'New Year, New Me' and other vomit inducing sentiments. Instead, and in light of recent realizations to do with my temperament, I propose that we make small but significant changes. I for one will stop sponsoring my days by Cadburys, and convincing myself that cake if eaten after 4 o'clock is simply 'tea'...a socially acceptable and highly recognized meal time.

But for now, that is quite enough. Pass the wine.

B xx