Bizarro Resolutions

Resolve, they say, and you will grow,

With discipline, esteem, and glow.

You’ll master self, you’ll rise, you’ll strive—

At least, if all your goals survive.

But push too hard, aim far too high,

And watch your good intentions die.

So this year, spared from shame and strain,

I’ve flipped the script—Costanza reigns.

For ten long years, the vow was clear:

“Lose ten pounds—this is the year!”

But now I start with bold precision:

I vow to gain—a brave revision.

Two-twenty pounds, a waist of thirty-eight,

I carve in stone my present state.

With iron will and hopeful grin,

I march toward victory… chin first in.

I will watch TV—more, not less.

I’ll nap at length; I’ll nap with zest.

I’ll swear in traffic, loud and proud,

Compose new curses, long and loud.

At the Escadrille, I’ll bravely choose

Appetizer and dessert to lose

All doubt that discipline still lives—

It’s just selective where it gives.

I’ll drive my car, no walk required,

Even next door, when slightly tired.

Recycling? Trash. Efficiency!

The planet waits—this nap’s on me.

At the RMV, I’ll change my line,

Ignoring signs that scream “You’re fine.”

I’ll cut mattress tags without a care—

Come get me, law enforcement, if you dare.

I will procrastinate with skill,

A master class in doing nil.

And thus I claim, with no regret,

Each resolution proudly met.

The bride just offered fudge she made—

A test I pass without delay.

Success is sweet, my path is clear:

This is too easy. Happy New Year!