#4 Stop Farting Around Charlie So Much

In the beginning there was love. We used to say “please” and “thank you.” I sucked my tummy in, wore pretty panties, shaved my armpits and legs, painted my toenails and never, EVER farted in front of my boyfriend. Soon we moved in together and things like burping became funny. From there it became funny to ask him to spoon me in bed and let ‘er rip. Oh it was such a gas! Literally.

We’re at the point now where farting has gone beyond funny and it’s just something we do. Like ignore each other when the TV is on. I don’t know what it is that makes me always need to cut one around him. I seriously don’t think I even fart when I’m not around him.

After I wrote my resolutions and published them, I got a lot of remarks from readers about how they always pass gas in front of their lovers too. I was not alone. It was almost enough to shelve the resolution and say write it off to the maturing of our relationship. I negotiated with myself and thought, “This is what we do once we shed the mask of the girl we wish to be in the beginning.”

Now we’re engaged. I’m going to marry the best man I’ve ever met in my entire life (next to my grandfather.) He has never ever been less than a caring, patient, beautiful and dedicated man. I am super stoked to have him and the thought of getting to be his wife is, like, THE SHIT. I think about that mask I wore in the beginning of our relationship, the polite, proper and less flatulent girl. I think she’s all right and I think she’s the kind of girl he deserves to marry. So at the end of the day, this resolution isn’t so much about not farting around my future husband anymore, it’s about behaving like a lady and treating the man I love with a the same respect we had when we first were together. I can’t promise him Queen Elizabeth, but saying “Please” and “Thank You” and not farting is a good start.

#3 Take daily vitamins

I'm so bad at committing to seeing anything thru. I can't even drink an entire can of Diet Coke and lord knows how much I love those. Charlie is always walking around the house finding half empty cans of DC and yelling at me about how wasteful I'm being. I'm sure there are children in Africa who would love to drink the other half of my Diet Coke. I'm sure. 

Anyway, I have expired bottles of vitamins and other healthy-making elements in pill form in deli bags in my Bathroom. First of all, throw them away, second of all, start taking them! Well there's a one and a half of all in there, and it's buy new bottles. 

Aging is not fun. My joints are suffering from two car accidents and 8 years of stiletto galavanting about in NYC during my 20s. I swear my knees hate me. And sometimes, my hips just decide to give up on me. If you don't know what that looks like, thank your lucky stars. So I should be taking Glucosamine. Lord knows I have three huge bottles of it at home in various states of expiration.

Let's talk about the hair, I swear I'm one big recessive gene. Thanks dad for my early hair-loss. It's not enough that you gave me daddy issues, your temper and the big breastedness that curses the women in your family. Now I'm losing my hair too, which is another thing to add to the list of things that are perfectly fine on men and so not ok on the ladies. So Vitamin B6 and B12. Got those too. 

Oh trust me, this lack of commitment does not end at Vitamins. I can't finish a prescription of antibiotics to save my life. I already am going to marry a man who thinks that Anti-biotics and Anti-Bacteria product will bring the end of man. Now I am contributing to this, according to Charlie, by creating SUPER INFECTIONS in my body,  resistant to antibiotics because I don't finish my scrip. The end of the world is a lot of guilt to lay on my shoulders. I'm Catholic, thanks, I'm all loaded up on guilt already.

Anyway...I'm throwing away all my vitamins, I'm going to talk to a nutritionist and get on a proper vitamin regimen that I will follow. Fingers crossed one Flinstones chewable multivitamin will satisfy my daily intake.

#2 Exercise at least 3 times a week

My experience with body dysmorphia is this:
My skinniest girlfriends: "I'm Fat!"

These anorexic bitches really make me want to slap them sometimes. I, on the other hand, am the opposite. Instead of being a walking bone complaining about being fat, I’m someone who is fat that didn’t think she was fat…that was until someone asked me if I was pregnant.

That incident happened while I was living in NY. During that time, I was planning a trip to LA to visit friends and sent a message saying, “When you see me, I’m not pregnant, I’m just fat. So don’t ask.” If you ever wanted people to ask you if you’re pregnant non-stop, send out a message like that, because my friends apparently think it’s funny to live in opposite-land.

Enter the trapeze, shift and tunic silhouettes. The timing couldn’t be any more perfect. However, this only opened me up to more pregnancy scrutiny. It’s a slippery slope between billowy sundress with an empire waist and a maternity dress. This also was about the time I decided I’d rather have people WONDER if I’m fat/pregnant than actually prove I am fat, by wearing clothes that “hugged” my shape. That shape of course is a circle. Because I am now the shape of an M&M Cartoon figure. Big and round in the middle with normal size appendages. I am a walking optical illusion; or rather I’d like to think I am. However, I think the gig is up and people are on to my game.

The bottom line is, my boyfriend, he’s skinnier than me and that’s just wrong. We are the living breathing manifestation of Jack Sprat and his wife and it’s not fun. I’m officially the girl with the “pretty face” and that usually means the girl with the pretty face is “fat.”

Time to change this.

Weight: None of your business
Goal: Minus 40 pounds

#1 Stop Smoking

It's not a good look.

This is such a throw-away resolution. It’s perpetually on the top of my New Years Resolution List every year. Two years ago, I quit smoking for a few months, it was pretty easy, no patch, no gum, just sheer will power. I approached it by saying, “I’m not smoking TODAY.” and I’d never tell people “I quit smoking.” It seemed a lot less intimidating that way. Next thing I knew three months had passed. It was pretty convenient since I was living in NY and cigarettes are dumb expensive out there.

I “relapsed” when a co-worker asked me if I was pregnant. Don't EVER ask a woman that question unless you are absolutely sure. And by absolutely sure, I mean 1) she's either announced it or 2) a baby is crowning. All the sudden, all the times people offered up their subway seats to me started making sense. I didn’t even notice how much weight I gained when I quit. I was enough to make me want to smoke again.

So to Jana F. and Tony Toni Tone, this 13-year resolution is for you. If I didn’t have a stressed out boss who chain smoked Newports, and if I hadn’t worked at a time when people were allowed to smoke in their offices, and if my very first project as a "professional" was coordinating the travel and promo tour of a band in the midst of a acrimonious breakup, I'd probably have something like "Lose Weight" in the #1 spot all these years.

Current Abuse: 1 pack of cigarettes every day and a half.
Goal: ZERO Packs of cigarettes by end of the year.