By this time, many of us will have given up our New Year’s resolutions. But, writes, Emma Connolly, we’re in good company. She asked some local ladies about their own experiences
Deirdre Hosford is a former Operation Transformation leader, originally from Crossmahon in Bandon, and now living in Whitechurch. She’s a fitness instructor, personal trainer and a full-time mom of three.
‘OVER the years there have been many made and broken resolutions, but one that sticks out is the 365 challenge. Starting on January 1st, you take and upload one photo every day – of anything you want. The idea is that by the end of the year, you have your year in pictures.
‘To start there were pictures of beautiful sunsets, close-ups of flowers, my family, my dogs, food, coffee etc etc. But by around January 20th I was clean out of ideas and so sick of having to remember to take the photos, I abandoned the idea completely and to date there are 22 photos in the album! Maybe next year....’
Deirdre O’Donovan is development consultant with West Cork Music.
‘ONE year I decided to announce to all at work that I had a plan to learn one poem a month for cultural development and to exercise the mind. With the announcement came a declaration that I would recite one at the beginning of each month.
‘Unfortunately for me, a colleague remembered in February and put me on the spot in a full boardroom while waiting for the boss to arrive.
‘I’m ashamed to say I failed in my resolution. However, as my job was in London with English colleagues – I cheated and recited to all with confidence and a booming voice a Yeats poem I’d learned at school. They loved it!’
Tina Pisco is a West Cork-based writer.
‘I DON’T know when I made my first New Year’s resolution, but I can safely say that I have at least a half a century of broken promises to myself. Along with the usual resolutions to lose weight, or work out, I have resolved and failed to eat porridge, replace coffee with green tea, learn to play the piano, and how to sew. I now enjoy porridge, but rarely eat it.
‘The green tea vow lasted exactly one cup. I did take some piano lessons, but can’t play a tune, and I still haven’t mastered a sewing machine.
‘Looking back on my on my dismal resolution record, I am struck by two positive things. Firstly, my resolutions mostly involve doing something new, or more of something healthy, rather than resolving not to do something. It’s a subtle difference, but one that I feel is more optimistic. It also does not carry as much guilt when you fail.
‘I also noticed that some resolutions pop up again and again, even if I break my promise over, and over. I was particularly surprised to realise that one resolution has been on the list for many years. It is silly and superficial. I am slightly embarrassed to admit it, but every year I resolve to take better care of my elbows. I know – it makes no sense, but I really don’t like ugly, dry elbows.
Apparently this affliction can be sorted by a combination of exfoliation and moisturising. My lackadaisical attitude to resolutions has, thus far, resulted in less than perfect elbows, but hope springs eternal.’
Tara Flynn, comedian, actor and writer, from Kinsale.
‘I GAVE up making New Year’s resolutions years ago because I rarely saw them past January 7th and the resultant guilt propelled me all the way up to Easter, or maybe June.
It’s a lot of pressure to be good or make changes when the month is already so dreary, and every day should be a duvet day. I honestly think we should reverse it: be all healthy in December when there’s the distraction of loads of people and good telly, then have some nice treats in store for January when everyone’s broke and retreats to their caves. I remember once resolving to work out like a demon for an hour, five days a week. I kept a diary, ticking off those bootcamp days for four weeks, but was exhausted, didn’t really get any fitter as a result, and gave up. Hello, guilt! I’d made a stick to beat myself with. Nowadays, while I do try to take stock at the turn of the year, I’m more gentle with myself. I try to make changes in September, before it’s dark and grim. You never need the hopeful promise of chocolate more than you need it in January.’