Writer, Grace Hussey, interrogates the place of the New Year resolution in a consumerist culture.

As the New Year has approached and arrived I, as many, have been anxiously pondering who I am, where I fit into the world, and who I want to be in 2025. As January commences, we frantically write lists of resolutions to follow, a last-ditch attempt to force good habits, to self-improve at this time of year. Throughout December, I found myself begging my partner to embark on a promise of pescetarianism with me, before I started to question myself. Why was I doing this, where was this all coming from? 

The pressure to have a ‘glow up’ is undeniable; to become fitter, smarter, better. But I believe the motivations behind resolutions are more complex than this. While trying to explain the sense of image I wanted to embody in the New Year I caught myself saying ‘I just want to be the kind of person who buys kiwis.’ Suddenly, I had this vision in my head of someone whose weekly food shop was full of fresh fruit and vegetables, who woke up early enough each morning to slice up a kiwi and eat it for breakfast with their coffee. For some intangible reason, I felt like this one simple sentence had become the epitome of organisation, of success. But who is this ‘perfect’ lifestyle catering to?

In an ideal world, resolutions would be limited to sustainable changes: going on a daily walk, calling your grandparents more, saving money. Instead, over the next month, people will invest in expensive gym memberships and fill their fridges with greens that will slowly rot. This is an epidemic of consumerism; but we do not need this overconsumption in order to live fulfilling lives, or to feel good about ourselves. Arguably, there are no rules to New Year’s Resolutions, there is nothing forcing us to buy or shop more in order to partake; but the subliminal messages are everywhere. New pastel coloured gym sets line the shelves in Tesco, a rainbow of high-tech water bottles promise that you will drink more water this year if you just invest in yourself. The ideal lifestyle is an expensive one. 

There’s no shame in microwave meals and waking up with enough time to grab a coffee before the day starts.

Not only is the ‘perfect’ lifestyle expensive, but it is time consuming. The average person doesn’t have time to take multiple yoga classes a week or go to the gym every day. Long hours at work won’t end in cooking up elaborate healthy meals at home. There’s no shame in microwave meals and waking up with enough time to grab a coffee before the day starts, there’s no shame in the way normal people live their lives.

Online fads swear that old skin will rejuvenate with just a spoonful of sea moss a day, which sells for £15 a jar. Influencers tell us to buy their haircare gummies. We live in a society where health and wellness are dictated by consumerism, we are told we cannot possibly be our best selves without all of these things. Our insecurities are being capitalised, and when March rolls around there will be very little to show for it.

We all seek the middle class utopia that is splashed across our televisions in Waitrose adverts, but swiping our cards and filling our homes with new products won’t afford us it. It is perfect because it is unattainable. For years I wondered why I hated resolutions so much, why I dreaded the constant well-meaning January question of ‘what are your resolutions?’. It’s clear to me now that I dreaded it because I knew that whatever resolutions I decided to make were futile. I’ve promised myself many things, pressured by how desirable the fresh start of a new year is, it just never really stuck.

Instead, make resolutions all year round, choose to make lifestyle changes without the added pressures in January. Question whether you actually care about pescetarianism or if you just want to feel like a better person - like I did.

Published 20 January 2025