I’m not anti-resolution. I actually stuck to one last year: not a single microwave rice sachet has passed my lips since 1 January 2024 and yes, I do want a medal, thanks. But I also want to ask anyone implementing something “new year new you”-adjacent in the wellness space: do you really have time?
The wellness timesuck starts innocently enough, setting a manageable daily step count, maybe, downloading a couch to 5k app or targeting the NHS’s recommended 150 minutes of weekly exercise. But once you get started, you’ll discover everything else you should be doing, especially if you’re a suggestible social media user. “Start strength training,” your algorithms nudge, raving about bone density and heart health, so soon you’re adding deadlifts and split squats to your weekly routine. Then it’s mobility – don’t you realise it’s key to avoiding pain and later-life problems, dummy? Do daily stretches or suffer the creaky consequences.
Of course, it’s pointless without good dietary foundations: avoid UPFs by prepping meals from scratch and eat protein like it’s your job. Wellness is in the mind too: stay stimulated with challenging reading or learn a new language and maintain mindful calm with a morning meditation and breathwork practice. If you’re considering cutting back on sleep to squeeze all that in, tsk: those seven to eight hours are vital. You might live two to five fewer years without them. Something has to give, though: maybe your social life? Don’t you dare: loneliness and social isolation are silent killers, so you’d better not cut choir or the pub quiz. And I hope all this isn’t stressing you out, because chronic stress raises your risk of heart disease. Relax, for goodness sake!
I’m telling you this based on bitter experience. I tried to look after myself marginally better last year and ended up getting anxiously influenced into all manner of esoteric add-ons, from wall squats to heel raises and soaking chia seeds. Now, as the self-assessment tax deadline approaches, I’ve realised that the thing that had to give was my actual job: I might be healthier, but I’m flat broke.
Emma Beddington is a Guardian columnist
