I know that normally everyone in January chants “New Year, New Me.” However, it seems like reviving past trends is the thing of the moment. I’m talking fur being hot again, the 90s ruling fashion, and, of course, presidencies. And so, as a girl who likes to be part of the pack, this year I’ve decided to listen to what the world is telling me. The mantra I’m going to be repeating to myself is: “New Year, Old Me.” Below are the five things I’m going to be bringing back from my past:
1. Wrinkles upsetting me: When I was a child, I used to hate wrinkles in my socks. If I put on a shoe and felt anything other than taut cotton wrapped around my foot, I’d bring down the house with my shrieks. That’s why for a long time I wore shoes without socks, which horrified both my parents. Mostly my father. But now that I’m a nearly thirty-year-old, I think it’s time to revisit my old habits, which might mean screaming when my socks refuse to stay in place or it might mean simply not wearing socks at all. I haven’t decided yet. Sock quality worldwide has gone to the dogs. If you want to know just how bad modern socks are, I’ll tell you. They’re so bad that I’ve taken to playing a little game I call “Will they — or won’t they — stay up?” Which is why I’m going to quit socks. That, or continue to wear them, but scream and scream and scream when they slip. Be prepared for loudness.
Sock quality worldwide has gone to the dogs. If you want to know just how bad modern socks are, I’ll tell you. They’re so bad that I’ve taken to playing a little game I call “Will they — or won’t they — stay up?”
2. Not knowing I’m hungry: Everyone in my family knows that once my blood sugar drops, I get either very cranky and revert back to being a teenager or I become silently mutinous. I shrug a lot, frown, and pretend not to care when in fact I’ve never cared more. Now that I’m supposedly a grown-up, I know that when I behave in ways that feel out of character, it’s usually because I need food. However, this requires a lot of self-regulation. Work, in other words. Because, you know, I have to register the fact that I am hungry, and, quite frankly, the registration office is not always open. And that is why, in 2025, I’m going to let my hunger run wild. If it creeps up on me or approaches very openly, I’m going to react just the way I used to and just let it shock me into bad moods. Clearly, I didn’t die of hunger as a child, so I can trust that I will not die of hunger as an adult. Food will find its way to me, or I to food, and all will go back to normal. And if it doesn’t . . . well, welcome, plot twist!
3. Skinny jeans: When I was young, my mother graciously told me I was skinny enough to look good in leggings and an over-sized shirt. I made the logical conclusion that I probably looked good in skinny jeans, too. And perhaps I did, since tweens and teens seem to me the only people who look good in them, which is totally because they have that vaguely elfin look. Since trends we thought were dead and buried have found their way back to life, I know skinny jeans are fated to return. So, just to be preemptive, I’m going to start wearing them immediately. Why? Might as well. Will I like it? No. Will you think I look good in them? Alas, no. But at least we’ll have something fun to talk about at some future date.
4. Licking my thumb before turning pages: This one feels like a no-brainer. It’s sassy, it spreads germs, and it’s unnecessary. What more could you want?
So, just to be preemptive, I’m going to start wearing them immediately. Why? Might as well. Will I like it? No. Will you think I look good in them? Alas, no.
5. Good syntax when texting: As a kid, I cared deeply about Italian and English syntax, ad never, ever wanted to be seen making a mistake in my grammar. Probably, this was about wanting to pass fully as both Italian and American. That’s why it’s almost irrational that before I caved to “LOL” and “HBU” and “IDK,” I used to text with no care for precision. If I typed a word wrong but it was close enough that someone could deduce the one I intended, I’d leave it. And if my sentence was made up of mismatched plurals and singulars or failed parallelisms, I’d let it be. I trusted people to know that in spite of being a terrible texter, as a writer, I was without fault. However, as I don’t want to be one of those people contributing to the degeneration of language, I’m going to end this practice. From now on, I text the way I type — perfectly.
I hope you’ll join me in this new way of welcoming the new year. Or this new way of welcoming all the old years you thought were never coming back. A benefit of this strategy? Well, you’ve already done all these things, so at least the second time around you’ll know what to expect. That should make up for any unpleasantness, wouldn’t you say?
