1. Stop bitching, complaining, and whining to my heart’s content. Want to know what I think of your “I’m so grateful” posts on Facebook? That your life is in such a terrible disarray that your mind has created a comforting delusion of a satisfactory life.
2. Find a justification for the cognitive dissonance that rules my pop culture life: to consider myself a feminist and yet succumb to the addictive diseases of The Bachelor, Real Housewives of New Jersey, etc. I’m more ashamed of myself than you will ever be.
3. Avoid gag-inducing, ignorant remarks by people who swear “I’m not racist/sexist/homophobic/xenophobic/etc BUT…” Guys, the past two years have taught me that I was living in a lovely, liberal-leaning, lighthearted bubble of tolerance and civility because I only regularly hung out with ten people who were the kind to drop “heteronormativity” in everyday conversation. The rest of the world is not like this. The rest of the world is poop.
4. Find an exercise regime I enjoy. I hate exertion. Period. I will drag my tree trunk thighs to the gym because my vanity is a tad more powerful than my laziness. But I will never like it.
5. Stop daydreaming about the Eat, Pray, Love reinvention I would have if I moved to some far off location. This usually occurs when I’m visiting said far off location, and all I can focus on is how much better X city is than my current residential situation. This is probably motivated and enhanced by whatever alcoholic beverage I’m currently imbibing in said location.
6. Find any interest in the minute analysis of the size of your thighs followed by a play-by-play description of your newfangled diet. I have unfriended people on Facebook for this, and only this, reason.
7. Go to bridal/baby showers with any other feeling except overwhelming dread. I don’t know what it is about theses supposed joyous occasions that make me feel like Frodo at the gates of Mordor. The forced conversations with a centenarian great-aunt? The worship of material consumption as we ooh and aaah over a shiny new cherry pitter that the bride will never use? The insufferable games that insult our god-given intelligence?
8. On a related note, find a convincing reason that will effectively stop anyone else from asking the baby question. Actually, I do have one that might be the nuclear answer: “NEVER. I’m infertile.” If I didn’t believe in the power of jinx, I’d be dropping those Enola Gay’s left and right.
9. Refuse to believe that Charlie is anything else but a superior life form.
10. Get rid of my crippling yet oddly liberating self-doubt. I have the lingering sensation that I suck at life. Since I have accepted this into my heart, I find myself caring less and less about consequences. There is freedom in mediocrity, peeps. (Hahahahaha, who am I kidding? Please hold me and tell me I’m awesome.)