So here we are, at the start of yet another year.
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It seems like only a few weeks ago that we were celebrating the start of 2023, but here we are again already, heralding the dawn of 2024.
![Grumpy Old Man: time to find some realistic resolutions Grumpy Old Man: time to find some realistic resolutions](/images/transform/v1/crop/frm/204165774/b9ed5648-e33c-46e2-a80e-3a6cf2142b76.png/r0_0_1600_900_w1200_h678_fmax.jpg)
Which means two things - I am no longer able to accurately keep track of passing time; and it is time to make all the promises that we will be breaking by mid-February at the latest.
Now it is perfectly natural to take a look at your life at the end of a year, wondering what you have achieved or learnt during the previous 12 months.
But I get the feeling that the whole concept making new year's resolutions is a marketing ploy developed by people who sell exercise equipment, diet plans and medication to stop us feeling depressed about breaking yet another resolution.
It seems it is all based on convincing us to do things we either don't want to do, or are incapable of doing.
Because if we really wanted to, and were able, we would be doing them anyway.
Well, not this little black duck.
I'm not going to succumb to the pressure to set myself up for failure by making unrealistic resolutions - like being more healthy by eating better and being more active.
Who the heck would benefit from that sort or nonsense anyway?
No, my resolutions are going to be far more realistic this year.
They are to finally win my battle with anorexia, and to end my obsession with exercising all the time.
At least they are resolutions I know I can keep.