New Year, New Me?

Written by Ariadna Sandoval | Designed by Zoe Yiran | Photographed by Sophia Kysela

For Some New Year’s is a Day to Celebrate Accomplishments, For Women it’s the Start of a Risky Race to Physical Renewal.

"New Year, New Me." A simple yet complex phrase. What may appear as nothing more than a typical New Year's saying can actually have more of an impact.

Everybody knows the drill; the moment the clock strikes midnight on December 31st, holiday cookies are out and dietary supplements are in. As if a fairytale ending, we strive for an overnight transformation.

But nobody takes the time to question how unrealistic and taxing this transformation is for those who seek to achieve it. It’s time to look at the real reasons why New Year's diet resolutions exist, and why we constantly fall victim to them.

During my early childhood, I never felt the need to reinvent myself. At nine years old, I spent the first days of the year celebrating the end of the festive season. After spending Christmas indulging in mouth-watering desserts with loved ones, January was spent eating Christmas dinner leftovers and drinking hot chocolate with my cousins.

As I grew up, things started to change—I began to notice how I looked to others, how my side profile looked from across the classroom, and how the traditional Christmas dress fit my body. I internalized the public's gaze. Every year as that January 1st date grew closer, I saw myself looking forward to it—the day I could delete the past and restart.

At fifteen years old, Instagram scrolling became an everyday hobby. I was bombarded with dietary ads and post-holiday workouts. The phrase "summer body" was forcefully introduced to my vocabulary as I saw myself avoiding the carb-filled post-Christmas dinners.

From a young age, we are fed images of how we are supposed to look. We learn what it means to be “beautiful” according to societal standards, and we learn to want to achieve them. A crucial part of achieving this social model: the New Year's diet.

I never chose to diet. At 15 years of age, I was pushed into the trend because I thought I was meant to do so, especially being a woman. I learned that losing weight equated to social acceptance. And, at that age, social acceptance meant happiness. There was little more important than fitting in during my teen years.

While the women in my Hispanic family adhered to this societal trend, men kept eating the leftover turkey. Even though the trend affected both genders, it seemed that women were more influenced by it.

As women, we are convinced, from as early as childhood, that thinness equals social value. We are expected to listen to dieting ads and weight loss tips, and are pressured to spend time and money in the noble pursuit of weight loss. Naomi Wolf states in The Beauty Myth, "A culture fixated on female thinness is not about an obsession about female beauty, but [one] about female obedience."

While men are also affected by this trend, the weightloss "journey" is usually a women's journey. A 2020 study on gender differences in diet culture concluded that women are more focused on losing weight than men.

From the moment we are born, we are conditioned to embody the gender stereotype. From detox diets to 5-minute fat-burning workouts, we are pushed to lose our past selves and become a new woman all during the span of one month.

Women are expected to fulfill a sexist societal model that pushes us to become less, to become smaller. The New Year's diet is a clear example of that. Earlier this year, I asked my male cousin what his New Year’s diet resolution was—"I guess I want to gain muscle," he said.

"I guess." That phrase quickly supported my already forming notion that women are most affected by this trend. While my sisters and female cousins were already checking out Chloe Ting's 5-minute ab workouts, my cousin was debating whether or not he should even diet. While men want to become bigger, women want to become smaller.

Tied with that need to change yourself for the new year is the feeling of guilt. Seven Christmases ago, finishing the last piece of Christmas cake, the sense of nourishing happiness that was prevalent in my childhood, was replaced with a feeling of shame. I felt guilty for taking that last bite and not starting my diet earlier. While I felt alone in my shame of accepting that last piece of paneton, my sister was going through the same thing.

"I used to binge on the paneton on Christmas night, feel ashamed of my actions, and then promise myself to start a diet the next day," she said during a recent phone call.

Women are expected to feel ashamed of overindulging and encouraged to start fresh—a "quick fix," they call it. As women, we are meant to see ourselves as broken and needing a "fix" as the year closes.

Influencers usually emit and propagate these sexist ideals. Take GOOP, for example. Gwyneth Paltrow's mainstream wellbeing brand focuses more on selling overpriced vitamins that take you straight to the bathroom than helping you achieve true wellness. And, like GOOP, many companies take advantage of those first months where women rush to start the new expensive juice cleanse.

Now, at 22, I understand it's all a marketing strategy meant to sustain a $4 trillion wellness industry . It's all part of the fitness industry's goal to profit from women's insecurities under the mask of "body positivity" that sells wellbeing and happiness. A wellbeing journey should focus on nourishing our psyche, not nourishing a brand's wallets. The fact that New Year's diets are fueled by a profit-driven industry means that they are often not sustainable. A study found that two-thirds of people fail their New Year's resolutions within a month, with the most popular resolution being dieting and working out.

After three months, most of us forget about our New Year's resolutions. We lose that "new year, new me" mentality, and become comfortable with our lifestyle—and companies know that. That's why they advertise their diets as a 10-day project, or their workouts as "quick and easy."

For a diet to work, the first thing one must ask is: why? Why am I dieting? Is it because you want to feel better with yourself and increase your overall well being? Or is it fueled by a societal need to fit the model?

We should understand that being healthy and happy does not always mean losing weight. Introducing a 15-minute walk into your daily routine could help you relax after a stressful day. Eating more veggies and fruits could be a fun way to add color and nutrients to your diet.

And, if weight loss is what you seek, a sustainable diet should focus on learning to listen to hunger cues and being patient with yourself. Every body is unique and will react to changes differently. While increasing protein intake is the answer for some, eating more carbs could work better for others. Taking time to learn about your body is vital.

Entering 2022 should not mean erasing 2021. Whatever you choose to do this year, remember your accomplishments. The friends you made, the memories, the food you ate. Let's learn to feel thankful for the obstacles we have gone through and to love who we are because of them. From going through a busy semester to surviving a pandemic—let's learn to be grateful.

If you find yourself scrolling through new quick diets or workouts, take a moment to question the intention and reason for such actions. Unfollow toxic influencers, learn to listen to your body, and mute society's patriarchal demands. Let's love how we grew and feel proud of our achievements.

So, starting in 2023, let's alter our New Year's resolutions. Learn a new language, create a new hobby, make new friends. Instead of changing our bodies, let's grow our minds. Why focus on starting anew when our past experiences make us who we are? Let’s start the year with: “New Year, Same Me.”