I did not. Make a New Year Resolution that is.
Although I did sort of think about it. Let a few things roll around in my head.
I’ve half resolved to do one thing but it’s pretty ridiculous. It’s the kind of thing that if I was sitting on the couch of a late night talk show and they asked me what my New Year’s Resolution was I couldn’t use my real resolution. I’d have to make one up. Like, I resolve to exercise more. Or I resolve to make my bed every morning. Why make something up, you ask?
Because I’d feel like a knob saying “Well Dave, I’ve resolved to eat less cured meats this year”.
But that’s really the one thing that keeps popping into my head. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, That Karen is an extraordinary human being if the only thing she needs to do to improve her life is to eat less cured meats.
And you’re right. I, Karen, am extraordinary. I am an extraordinary specimen of a woman with extraordinarily good eating habits, extraordinarily poor nail maintenance and extraordinarily wide feet that require I wear socks at all time so as not to frighten small children. If you were a troll, and you were going to give birth while standing, you would want my feet. Wide, solid, and with enough hair on the goink to get me through winter.
Yes, I Karen, the extraordinary, have troll birthing feet.
And I’m fine with that. I’m fine with most things in my life which is why I’m having resolution troubles this year. That and the fact that they’re really hard to keep.
I mean, really hard. Have you ever tried to do anything you didn’t want to do for more than 5 minutes? It’s stupid hard. (work doesn’t count, because at least someone is paying you to do something you hate, and it gives you a reason to buy new clothes)
Oh my GOD! I just came up with my resolution. To dress better. There. I’m done. I’ve resolved.
You see, I love clothing. I love Vogue, and W Magazine and the style of the late Carolyn Bessett-Kennedy. But in the past few years, since I’ve been working from home I’ve started to dress like a farmer. Mainly because I have a mini-farm.
I realize this side of me might come as a shock to you but … I own Prada. Clothing. Purse. The works. It’s a beautiful brand and they make beautiful things that in turn make me feel beautiful. You know the homesteader, DIYer side of me, but there’s a whole other side you fine folks have no idea about.
I Karen, chicken farmer, garden grower, have Chanel makeup and Christian Dior shoes. And I like em. But now that I’ve moved from my first career (television host) to my second career (blogger) I don’t wear either very much.
My friend Renee was over the other day actually and she mentioned something about me talking about clothing on this site, and I said … Well, my readers don’t really know I love clothing. They just think of me as the chicken lady.
So I’m here to tell you, to shout it … I, Karen the extraordinary, love clothing. And I resolve to dress better. To look better. To buy at least some of my clothes in a place that doesn’t have a dairy aisle. I’ll really, really, really try to do my nails and wear real clothes.
I may even shave the hair on my goink*.
So now I ask you, did you make one? And if so, did you already break it?
* goink (def): the space between the first and second knuckle on your toe; word an definition invented by karen, c. 1982
Want more STUFF like this?