2012 in Retrospect

"Aaaahhh, 2012."
For the last few days I've enjoyed saying that with a breath of nostalgia while reclining, kicking up my feet, and lacing my fingers behind my head.
"What a year."
Sometimes I say that too.
Other exclamations I've been heard uttering whilst reminiscing about 2012 include; "Deeee-amn!" "We gotta do that sh#@ again." and "Sheeeeesh." This last one will be accompanied with a slight head shake and a wry smile.
That's how good my year went. In fact, I improved more in 2012 than I did in the last 10 years combined. This is the first time I neared the end of the year and found I had no more sins to repent of, and no more blessing to ask for. So when I prayed, me and God just talked about the weather, the lack of leadership within the GOP, or other mysteries of the universe.

So, what made my year so good, you ask? Well, at the beginning of 2012 I set some pretty lofty goals for myself, and having accomplished all of them, I had what some call a 100% year. I reached my maximum capacity, and realized my full potential.

(A sample of some of my minor accomplishments)

After completing the cannon of American and British Classics, I translated them to Tolkien's Elvish.

I completed P90X, Y, and Z. Then sold my exercise video to Tony Horton.

I finally published the book I'd been working on under the pseudonym E.L. James, then let my heavy set widow neighbor do the press tour for me.

I did pull-ups... all day.

I eradicated offensive, politically incorrect language like "crap" and "retard" and "Mexican" from my vocabulary.

I learned to crap defecate so efficiently that I no longer need to wipe, or wash afterwards.

When my wife got tired of being pregnant, I gestated our 4th baby for the last five months.


Please understand, this is not an attempt to beat my own drum for glories sake. But rather to illustrate a point. I've been pondering ways I could possibly improve on 2012. Is it possible? The simple conclusion I've come to is, no. It's not. For that reason I've decided to forgo goals and resolutions this year. Our New Year traditions may demand my continued growth, but my family, peers and the world around me demand that I slow the Hell down. "Stop and smell the roses," they all say to me. "Life's too short." Or, "You're going to have a stroke and and be one of those people it's awkward to talk to because they have to speak so slow and deliberately." Now, I'm not convinced that all the nay-sayers are right, but out of love for my friends, family and those within my circle of influence I've decided to concede.

So, in conclusion, this is the year I let myself go. Gain a little weight. Let the eyebrows grow back together. Spend more time with my TV and less time with my kids. This is the year The UnMighty puts on the natural man. I'm already one week into the new me, and I have to say, it feels good. Like an old pair of sweats. In fact, I've decided to backslide carelessly just to be fair to 2014. If my plan works out well, I'll make it a tradition; Even years, excel. Odd years, regress.

So bring it on 2013! Let's get wasted!

Relapse

Since the beginning of January I’ve been on this Body For Life diet and have been doing better than I have ever done on a plan that required dietary discipline. But everybody has their breaking point; temptation they can’t resist.

The other day I walked into Smiths grocery store with the usual high-minded intent of slipping in, getting some fruits, vegetables, whole wheat bread, low fat milk, and maybe some lean white meats and then slipping out before my lustful eyes had the opportunity to ogle the unmentionables. I would mention them here but like I said, they're unmentionable.

Unfortunately, as soon as I walked in the front door my senses were assaulted by a giant mountain of sugary cereals. Not a stack, a mountain. The kind Attila would need elephants to conquer. Immediately I went into cold sweats, my legs locked uncontrollably though my heart screamed, “keep walking”, and had it not been for the cart I was leaning on I would have fallen forward and broken my nose. I attempted to prove my stalwart resolve to move on by setting my jaw, and whispering through clenched teeth, “get thee behind me Satan” to which the mountain replied, “no”, a simple but brilliant retort. I quickly concluded I was no match for this mountain in a battle of wits so I decided to just turn my back on it like Lot on Sodom and Gomorrah.

But I am a pillar of salt. I looked back. And when I did my eye caught a newspaper ad that read, “8 for 8 dollars.” Now, had these boxes been regular price there may have been some hope. Reason would have kicked in and screamed “No! You’ll bankrupt your family and ruin your marriage!” But temptation was only intensified exponentially by the incredible bargain. I felt like a chubby ten-year-old, just released from fat camp on Halloween night with an empty sack, a Superman cape, and the perfunctory charge to “stick with it buddy.”

There was nothing I could do. My will was undone. I bought 16 boxes.

When I got home some time later I knew I would have to face my wife. I decided to be forthright and own up to my mistakes. Much to her credit, when she saw me walk in with an armful of boxed diabetes and a heart full of shame she was not critical or even angry. She forgave me and loved me in spite of myself.

I unpacked my grocery bags, put all the cereal on the table and that was when I realized I accidentally got home with two extra boxes. Thinking back now I can’t help but wonder, was it really an accident? It’s like Smiths was telling me “listen, I like you. The first one's free” which we all know are the last words heard by a soon-to-be addict.








Luckily I have Maggie to help shoulder the burden.














You know what they say, misery likes company.