It’s officially the dullest and most depressing month of the year.
It’s not just me who finds January dull and depressing – January frequently tops lists of the most depressing month and contains the joyous Blue Monday (the third Monday).
No one wants to do or consume anything fun.
Wallets and credit cards are buried away. People only venture out (in the grey and damp) to go to work and the gym. Everyone’s on a diet or health regime of some sort or another; ‘being sensible’, the notorious #dryjanuary’, the latest trend: sirtfoods or god forbid #vegananuary (yes, apparently it’s a thing).
It’s well documented that new starts, o’clocks, Mondays, 1st of the months and obviously new years are a time fresh starts. This makes perfect psychological sense as they provide the trigger to make a change and allow our brains to keep tasks separate.
I have no opposition to people trying to improve their mental, physical or financial well-beings. But what gets me is the ridiculousness of the limits people place on themselves after (and before) such times of gluttony.
Christmas has turned into a prolonged indulgence of ridiculous and perhaps grotesque proportions. We must treat ourselves as well as others, make everything a little (or a lottle) more enjoyable/fun/exciting, purchase things we don’t need and/or can’t afford and consume the most incredible amounts of food and drink. The usual is no longer acceptable –we must shun the everyday.
One couldn’t possible have a night in, walk away from the somewhat pricey dress they see in store, go to the gym, buy the basics range or say no to a second dessert. They must go out every night, drink and eat as much as possible, stock the pantry only from the finest range, neglect their finances, health, fitness and in many cases self-respect.
And then all of a sudden it’s January and the limits are imposed.
I’ve often wandered what people do with the leftover mince pies in the pantry, the 21 boxes of chocolates they received, the Baileys no one drank on Christmas Day and the clothes they bought themselves? Do they walk around the house impeccably well dressed, hide the chocolates in the cellar and the credit cards in blocks of ice?
This year I seem to have found my answer.
On New Years Eve a friend asked for another drink as she wanted to make the most of it before dry January. The following day a friend described the last pair of shoes she’d bought before handing her card over to her boyfriend. Then yesterday a friend announced she was going home (from a burger and fries) lunch to finish her last box of chocolates before the diet began.
It seems the loom of the limiting ramps the human consumption machine from ‘high’ to ‘overdrive’ before the ‘efficiency’ button is abruptly hit.
As someone who doesn’t engage in any form of January limiting, I’m not sure whether I complain more or less. Yes, I’m doing, eating and drinking whatever I like, whenever I like but trying to find people to do this with is like pulling teeth and teasing people only remains fun for so long.
Good job I know two friends who have fallen off #dryjanuary already.
Contemplating why 