New Year's Resolutions: the Promise of Renewal
- Marilyn Yaquinto, PhD
- Jan 1
- 7 min read
Updated: Jan 15
For nearly every New Year's Day since I was a teenager, I'd wake up feeling lousy. Aside from times when I was legitimately sick from the flu or a bad cold, most of what ailed me was a throbbing hangover. As the years passed, I let up on that dusk-to-dawn, party-hardy approach, but even more subdued headaches could be traced to overindulging in food and drink the night before.
After a pot of coffee, quarts of water and a handful of aspirin, the rest of New Year's Day was spent immobilized on the couch watching back-to-back college football and grazing on whatever holiday leftovers were still hanging around. At some point in the day, I'd declare the need to purge all holiday "contraband" left in the house before the stroke of midnight. That's because the next day, January 2, I kicked off a key New Year's resolution: to lose weight. Again. The problem with this annual pronouncement was that it was less of a thoughtful game plan and more an act of desperation. By this date, I'd run out of clothes that fit. My body felt abused, especially after consuming copious amounts of salt, sugar and charcuterie boards since the holiday season started back in November.
Sure, I felt guilty about my lack of restraint or ability to stick with a diet beyond a few weeks. More debilitating than guilt, I felt shame. As renowned researcher Brené Brown notes, guilt is about being sorry for behavior, more easily remedied with a show of sincere remorse. On the other hand, shame is focused on who we are as people, and overcoming such a negative view of ourselves, if left unchecked, can spiral into serious acts of self-abuse.
To compound my sense of failure, my resolutions have cost me lots of money, as I signed up every year for another weight-loss program that I hoped would solve everything. Over the decades, I've literally spent thousands of dollars joining Jenny Craig, Nutrisystem, Noom, and Weight Watchers, to name a few, only to abandon most of them after a few weeks or months. And long before I stopped paying off the membership fees.
I’m persistently around 15 pounds overweight with a BMI of roughly 27. It’s not life-threatening but certainly enough to put me at risk for a variety of health issues. For me, it's not enough to justify turning to more extensive and expensive treatments that utilize prescription drugs, surgeries or injections. This latter approach is an emerging trend that's reporting remarkable results for those with more than 30 pounds to lose and BMI numbers north of 30.
To learn more about these remedies, see National Institute of Diabetes and Digestive and Kidney Diseases and Keck Medicine of USC.
Rather, my failure to stick to a program beyond February is similar to what happens to the other 40-45% of Americans who commit to such goals at the start of the new year, according to Public Health Nutrition. We share some common reasons for failing, as outlined by US News & World Report, which also suggests ways to stay the course by “cultivating optimism” and honestly assessing how realistic our resolutions are.
When I was younger, if the chocolate-laced Valentine's Day didn't do me in, the drink-heavy St. Patrick's Day drowned any remaining enthusiasm to stick with a plan. At my core, I knew it wasn't the fault of any of the programs I paid for. It was mine. I was the problem. By spring the weight would have crept back on, and with it, the familiar shame, more menacing than ever.
To be sure, each program I signed-up for yielded helpful insights. Weight Watchers, which costs as little as $10 a month (with a 10-month commitment and for online access only), taught me that no food is off limits, but the key is moderation and portion control. To my brain this makes perfect sense. To my inner beast, who can devour a sleeve of cookies whether or not I'm hungry, such wisdom falls on deaf ears. I appreciated Noom's approach, which claims to achieve "psychology-based weight-loss results." Noom, at about $35 monthly, confirmed I'm a "storm" eater who uses food to cope with anger and other raging emotions. But I often found their color-coded food groups as confusing as I found tracking Weight Watcher points cumbersome, especially when eating out or traveling.
I also did well, in the short term, with programs based on meal delivery such as Jenny Craig or Nutrisystem. They were expensive at roughly $350 a month, but did include 28 days worth of daily meals plus snacks. Again, my progress stalled when I dined out or traveled. Then the surplus food would pile up and spill out of the pantry or freezer, unless I remembered to skip or delay future orders. Besides, once I returned to cooking for myself, old habits came back as well.
These programs all have their pros and cons and some might be ideal for many weight loss goals, including how to prepare healthier meals. To learn more, check out this review of five of the most popular in 2024 from a dietician's point of view at healthline, a free online source for health-related news and research. Or a detailed comparison of major programs from this consumer rating service.
It’s all in our heads. And wounded hearts.
My collaborations with therapists and other coaches in the past few years have helped me gain the best insights into my struggles with weight loss. And we rarely talked about food. We did, though, talk plenty about the nature of the patterns I repeat, and which ultimately confirmed that I know what I should eat, but need help dismantling the reasons why I eat.
Like others who battle weight and body image issues, I learned that I eat my emotions, turning to food whenever I feel threatened or unlovable. This behavior has its roots in childhood traumas that show up whenever I’m in the kitchen or sitting down for a meal.
For many of us, we don’t fall off diets because we lack will power or are hopelessly undisciplined. Nor is it because the weight-loss programs that clamor for our attention (and dollars) this time of the year are inherently flawed. Most of them offer ample support via in-person or online meetings, along with coaching hotlines and interactive apps to help keep members on track.
It’s self-sabotage that remains our biggest obstacle. We are not the “failures” our shame tells us we are. But we do fail to fully grasp the traps we've set up for ourselves to ensure it's as difficult as possible to uncouple our skewed relationship with food. Unless we unpack the inner conflicts that drive us to seek food as comfort, our"drug" of choice, we’ll remain stuck in this loop of unhealthy patterns.
Researching my own behaviors also exposed the magical thinking that was also counter-productive. I imagined what success looked like once I attained that "perfect" weight, when all my problems mysteriously vanished as well. Miraculously, once I could fit into a pair of skinny jeans, I would become as confident as I think I looked. With therapy and coaching, I’ve come to realize that profound change starts on the inside. And not what a distorted mirror or scale tries to tell me.
“Outside-in solutions, such as dieting, joining gyms and so on, are doomed to fail if, other than your well-intentioned resolve to change, you’ve done nothing to enhance your capacity to sustain motivation or handle the inevitable stress and discomfort involved in change,” notes Joseph L. Luciani, a New Jersey-based clinical psychologist quoted in the US News article.
For others, body image issues can lead to becoming dangerously obese. Or foster eating disorders such as denying our bodies food as a way to exercise control over it (anorexia). Or overeating followed by excessive exercising, along with recurring cycles of bingeing and purging (bulimia). The causes behind such mental health challenges remain complicated. But shame is often found to be a common denominator for those who view food as both a nurturing friend and a baleful enemy.
I’m fortunate that my complex relationship with food never manifested into something more serious. But carrying around even 10 or 15 extra pounds still poses health risks. It contributes to my need to take medication to lower my blood pressure and cholesterol numbers. Moreover, according to the Arthritis Foundation, ”losing just 10 pounds would relieve 40 pounds of pressure” on my knees.
Once we realize that food doesn’t really love us back, we can turn to more merciful and reliable ways to take care of ourselves. If I can lose those persistent 10-plus pounds, I can dramatically improve my heart health. It may also reduce my risks of chronic disease and cancer. Even the minor perks of better sleep and increased energy levels would be most welcome.
What's on the menu for this New Year's resolution?
In light of all of the above information I’ve shared, what do you think I have planned to fulfill my New Year’s resolution for 2025? To find out, check out Part 2 of this posting, to be published after I finish the first few days of this new program.
Also follow me on Instagram, starting on January 2. I'll be sharing my journey, including pictures of. meals and our honest reviews of the food we're cooking (and how we're managing without the foods we're leaving off our plates). Clue: it's a well-known program that promises a lifestyle change rather than a simple diet. And it involves eliminating certain foods for 30 days to learn more about their effects on the body's functioning.
Wish me luck. And Happy New Year!
If you need help with anything that was shared in this blog, book a discovery call below. Remember I'm here to listen and help you map your path forward.
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