It's only a few more hours until Christmas and I have to play Santa without the kid catching on. Meanwhile, while everyone in the house is sick on Christmas Eve (lovely, right?), I am sitting here thinking about this past year.
This year has been relatively a successful one. Did I get my body I wanted? No, but, I certainly got myself to the point where I feel more deserving of having that great physique.
This past year I got the job I needed to advance myself in my career. I bought a car and now in the New Year, a new house (hopefully).
I'm 27 years old, I have a relatively successful career, a healthy and happy six year old, which in the wake of the Newtown shooting I am more grateful for than ever in my life. I have a boyfriend, who while drives me crazy, cares more about me and our family than anything, and a dog that loves me more than she loves herself and dog treats.
I can't help but feel that I am, through hard work and perseverance, meeting my goals and beyond. I feel I can achieve things. I feel that now that I am moving forward in work, home, and life, that the only thing left to achieve full force is my body.
I am not making a new years resolution---I hate those. Instead, a toast. "Thank you for my blessings this year, thank you for the support and success, and here is to my next goal of health and happiness."
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