A crisis, no matter how insignificant to others, is more likely to get us off our butts than a red circle on the calendar. You may be fat — and unhealthy because of it — but until you look in the mirror naked, bawl yourself red and puffy, and then get pissed off, you’re not going to have the means necessary to take action.

A few years ago I felt disgusted with myself and had fallen into a regular routine of fried food and self-loathing. I deliberately avoided the mirror until one day I had to use it to do my hair. I inadvertently caught sight of my body. Instead of going out that day, I just stood there and cried – and cried and cried. I’d done this before, which was why I avoided the mirror, but this time was different because something followed the tears that hadn’t before: anger. This was a crisis of the heart, both literally and figuratively.

The mental health community will tell you there is no right or wrong to feelings – and then strongly encourage you to “manage” them. Manage, schmanage. These feelings are legitimate, and they are the very tools I needed to make changes in my life. I’m not just talking out my ass here – but if I were, I’d be talking out the ass that’s quite a bit smaller than it used to be for my having realized the motivation, strength, and agility that can come from anger, disgust, and self-loathing.

This brings me to the New Year’s resolutions I highly recommend no sane person make. The insane are on their own.

Go On A Diet

If there were a diet that worked, the author of said diet would be unspeakably rich. I don’t mean a mere multi-millionaire; I mean s/he would share a spot on Forbes’ list with Bill Gates. Also, if there were a diet that really worked, there’d be no more fat people.

I didn’t change the way I ate until I just couldn’t stomach another slice of grease-laden pepperoni pizza dipped in ranch dressing. Until then, I had to accept myself for the grease-laden pepperoni pizza dipped in ranch dressing-eating person I was. Having done that, I would later find myself looking at a slice of pizza in a very different way.

I didn’t eat less bad food. I ate more good food – and I didn’t start doing that on any first day of January. I started doing that on no particular day about two years ago. I was getting into my car and noticed the rainbow-esque reflection from a puddle of antifreeze in the gutter. It looked like the grease that would pool in the crevices of my pizza. Something in my brain said, “Oh, so pretty. Oh, so toxic.”