Photo Illustration by Taylor Shute

I am saddened to announce that my New Year’s resolutions, which imbued me with a sense of optimism and gave me hope that I could become a better human being, have died. They were less than a month old.

They passed away quietly after a brief struggle with reality.

There were five resolutions in all, each born of good intentions on Jan. 1, 2013. A sixth—Stopping Smoking—was declared DOA after my youngest son saw it on my list and noted, “Hey, you don’t smoke—that’s cheating.”

Each resolution came into this world with hope, promise and—thanks to a diverse array of unflattering habits forged over years of bad decisions and slack living—the odds stacked firmly against it.

Still, Getting Fit managed to flourish during all three trips to the treadmill and that one decision not to supersize my Quarter Pounder meal. Frankly, I’m still a little puzzled the lady at the drive-through didn’t seem more impressed by my restraint, especially after I mentioned it for a third time. Continue…