This is the time of year when perfectly nice people, neighbors, relatives, coworkers and strangers, suddenly become nosy. It’s as if January 1 flips a switch in their brains and activates the Resolution Police. They lean in, lower their voices like they’re asking for your Social Security number, and say, “So…have you made any New Year’s resolutions?”

I usually smile politely, and reply, “No.”
Then comes the pause.
The judgmental pause.

“No resolutions?” they ask. “Not even one?”

Why bother?

I haven’t kept a New Year’s resolution for as long as I can remember. That’s experience. Decades of experience. I have the receipts to prove it. I’ve made promises to myself that didn’t survive breakfast on January 2. Some didn’t even make it through the night. I once resolved to “eat healthier,” then celebrated the resolution with pizza. Cheese counts as dairy. Dairy has calcium. Calcium is good for bones. That’s basically health food.

Let’s start with the word itself: resolution. According to the dictionary, a resolution is “a firm decision to do or not to do something,” or “the act of solving or ending a problem.”

At this point in my life, the phrase “firm decision” makes me tired. I don’t need firmness. I need a nap.

And “solving or ending a problem”? That sounds like work. I already have enough problems without inventing new ones on January 1. My back hurts when I sneeze. I lose my glasses while wearing them. I can’t remember why I walked into the room. I am not interested in adding another project to the list.

So when someone asks me about my New Year’s resolutions, I laugh it off. Because laughing is easier than explaining that I’ve reached the age where self-improvement has been replaced by self-acceptance and better lighting, stronger glasses, and hearing aids.

Besides, let’s be honest: you are under no obligation to keep your resolution. None. Zero. There is no enforcement mechanism. No penalties. No resolution court.

If you swear an oath in front of a judge and don’t keep it, there are consequences. Real consequences. People with badges get involved. Words like contempt are used.

But a New Year’s resolution? Nothing happens. No fines. No jail sentence. No stern letters in the mail.

“Dear Sir,
Our records indicate you resolved to lose 15 pounds and have instead gained six. Please report to Resolution Detention immediately. Bring comfortable shoes.”

Can you imagine being confined in a jail and having a fellow prisoner ask you, “What are you in for?”

“Well,” you say, staring into the distance, “I resolved to stop eating carbs.”

Or picture a parole hearing.
“So,  you promised to go to the gym three times a week. According to this report, you went twice in January and then started ‘thinking about it’ instead. Do you feel remorse?”

There is simply no downside to not keeping a resolution. Society does not collapse. The Earth keeps spinning. The sun still rises. Your friends still ask annoying questions.

Yet every year, millions of people make these promises like they’re signing a peace treaty with themselves. I do it with great ceremony, usually fueled by a Diet Coke or a diet peach Snapple and a cheeseburger.

Midnight strikes. Fireworks go off. And suddenly people shout, “This is the year! This is the year I change my life!”

No, it isn’t. This is the year you wake up on January 1 with a headache and vague anxiety, and your first official act is the bathroom, hoping that your body plumbing still works, and finding your morning pills.

Resolutions tend to fall into a few predictable categories:

1. Health resolutions
   “I’m going to eat better.”
   “I’m going to exercise.”
   
   

These are the most popular because they are the least specific. What does “eat better” mean? Better than what? Better than last night? Because last night I ate things that I wasn’t supposed to eat.

Exercise resolutions are even funnier. People buy gym memberships. The gym is packed for two weeks. By February, it’s a ghost town populated only by terrifyingly fit people who apparently live there.

2. Financial resolutions
   “I’m going to save more money.”

Great idea. Fantastic. Except January is the month when credit card bills arrive along with my school tax bill, and the country club dues. 

You open the envelopes and think, Who was I buying gifts for?
Oh right. Everyone. And myself. 

3. Productivity resolutions
   “I’m going to be more organized.”
   “I’m going to stop procrastinating.”

People who make these resolutions are lying to themselves and everyone else. Procrastinators don’t stop procrastinating. We just put it off until later. Possibly next year. Calendars are not in our vocabulary.

If procrastination were an Olympic sport, I wouldn’t sign up until after the deadline passed.

4. Personal growth resolutions
   “I’m going to read more.”
   “I’m going to be a better person.”

These are noble. Vague. Completely unenforceable.

What does “better person” even mean? Less sarcastic? Not happening. More patient? Have you met other people? I’m a good person now.

January 1 is not a fresh start. It’s a hangover with a calendar attached.

And the pressure! Everyone expects you to announce a resolution like it’s part of a ritual.

If you say you don’t have one, they look disappointed. Offended. Like you showed up to a potluck dinner with an old box of stale cookies.

“Oh,” they say, “nothing you want to work on?”

No. I’m good. I’ve reached the stage of life where my primary goals are comfort, peace, and not dropping anything that would require bending down.

I don’t need resolutions. I need realistic expectations.

Here are some resolutions I could keep:

• I resolve to continue being approximately the same person.
• I resolve to not make promises I fully intend to ignore.
• I resolve to laugh at the concept of self-reinvention tied to a calendar date.

Those are achievable.

Because real change doesn’t happen on January 1. It happens randomly, when you least expect it. Usually because something breaks or someone says something that annoys you just enough to finally do something about it.

And if I do decide to change something? I’ll do it quietly. No announcement. No fireworks. No witnesses. I’ll surprise my wife, who has been asking me to do it for a year.

Because the moment you tell people your resolution, they become auditors.

“How’s that diet going?”
“Still going to the gym?”
“Didn’t you say you were watching your A1C?”

So this year, when someone asks me if I made a New Year’s resolution, I’ll smile and say, “Absolutely.”

“Oh really?” they’ll say. “What is it?”

“I resolve not to answer this question again.”

And then I’ll laugh. Because laughter, unlike resolutions, is something I can actually keep.

Michael Kossove is Professor Emeritus and an adjunct professor of microbiology at Touro University’s School of Health Sciences. He is a polio researcher, international polio lecturer and polio survivor, and lives in Sullivan County, NY.