A new year. Time for me to be all profound and manafesto-y. Maybe fire off a quote or limerick or something.
While 2012 can be summed up in the words of Tommy Boy, “Ow, that’s gonna leave a mark,” 2013 is blowing up Monty Python style, ‘Tis but a scratch.”
I spent last year both failing and succeeding at liking myself, and that prepped me for this year, in which I plan to positively fucking love myself. I’ll probably still fail some, but I decided to have a whole lot more fun doing it.
I have a lot of friends who pick a word to define their year, and after much thought and consideration, I’ve decided my word for the year will be “play.” Some of the best experiences in my life have come from just trying something fun, so this year I’ll let my immaturity be my guide, indulge a bit, and play… a lot.
I’ve made a list of goals for the year to make it official.
1. I’m renewing our vows. Like, ours. You and me. Don’t shift uncomfortably, I mean it, you look really pretty today, and you’ve been super understanding after I had that one small mental breakdown, so I know you’re a keeper. *maintaining awkward eye contact* I’m just a girl, wearing a tuxedo shirt, promising she’s going to update her blog everyday for you. It will probably be weird and off-color. This is the part where we kiss…
2. Brittany Gibbons, present. I won’t just be more present here, but other places, also. In my life as a mom and wife. In all the different and weird career hats I wear. And at the buffet table. 2013 isn’t a year of seconds, it’s a year of thirds.
3. I’m buying a bikini. I mean…. yeah, at least it will be easier to pee in. I’ll share the whole experience with you, providing I wax and whatever.
4. I’m going to L.A. in two weeks to tape the pilot for our travel show, Have Boobs Will Travel. The fact that eating tons of food, acting like a weirdo, and hyperventilating on airplanes might soon be my job description is still hilarious to me, so I’m just gonna keep typing it out loud until it sinks in.
5. I’m learning to play an instrument. Which means me, serenading you. Out of tune and totally sexy.
6. Andy wrote me this totally unexpected letter on our anniversary. Like, I choked up and ugly cried in the booth of a sushi restaurant because he writes me notes exactly never. It had a little sheep on it and it said “I love ewe,” and I can’t even scan it and show y’all because if I did, we’d all automatically be pregnant, that’s how amazing it was. Anyways, of the many wonderful things he wrote, he told me that this would be the year of us, like, as a couple. We will allow ourselves moments to get away and enjoy each other, whether it be across the country, or in the next room. We want to show our kids we love each other in ways that don’t involve us fighting over an incorrectly loaded dishwasher. Neither of us had parents who were affectionate with each other in front of us as kids. Do they have to know we bone? No. That’s for them to discover later when they accidentally walk into our bedroom at the wrong moment and decide we’re the grossest parents ever. But, I want them to know I adore their father, and he, me.
7. I’m going to watch and compile a list of reviews for every Bill Murray movie. And then I’m going to meet him. This is less a resolution and more me putting this shit out into the universe sort of thing.
8. I will work toward my goal of supporting my parents. Ok fine, one sappy goal. But it’s an important one. I have awesome parents, who work harder than anyone I know, who went without so I could have, and who are the most amazing grandparents; I want more than anything for them to be able to stop working and enjoy life.
9. Lastly, I’m not going to diet this year. I like eating things; fresh things, grilled things, tortilla wrapped things, baked things, drive-through things. If looking at my body grosses you out, you should probably stop staring at me, it’s creepy.