Resolutions

When I was 12, my New Year's Resolution was to read Les Miserables from cover to cover, without skipping the boring rambly political pages. After 3 months, I gave up. Instead, I had skipped chapters at a time, reading and re-reading the chapters I liked -- a special favourite was Eponine's poignant death scene, and Marius kissing her forehead.

Then I realised that New Year's Resolutions were a waste of time, and I never made one since. Until January. I resolved to join a gym. Or do yoga. Now, I had thought of joining a gym for the last year and half now, but procrastination, exhaustion and sheer laziness got in the way. So I was sure my resolution would fizzle by the wayside, joining the political chapters of Les Mis.

So imagine my shock when I found myself signing up for a year's membership to the nearby gym. Even more surprising, I actually joined a class yesterday. And enjoyed it. Sure, it was a very yoga-esque class, but still! I had, after all, spent 10 minutes on a treadmill waiting for this class. (Yes, my fitness levels aren't that great, so shoot me!)

Next week, I have even greater ambitions: kickboxing classes!