We are now well into the second month of 2014 and, statistically, the vast majority of people will have already terribly failed their new year’s resolutions. However there are still some brave souls desperate to achieve their objective, battling through each and every day.

 

The Calorie Counter

You will often see these poor souls skulking around the food establishments in the Union, with haunted, pleading eyes. Determined to drop these last few pounds, and unwilling to accept the long-term downfalls of dieting, they actively shun all fun and pleasurable foods. On the rare occasion that you do see them eating, they are easy to distinguish from other people, mostly due to the light draining from their eyes while mournfully looking at their single toasted cornflake with low fat spread. An additional distinctive feature of the Calorie Counter is their repetitive and slightly panicked mantras. These are most often heard as the Calorie Counter is walking past a particularly delicious-smelling branch of Subway. Some notable weight loss mantras include ‘A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips’, ‘Keep tracking, stop slacking’ and numerous other gems. However, inevitably, there will come a day when they stop counting calories so rigorously and life will slowly return to them once again.

The Dry January

These brave souls may be torturing themselves in the name of charity, or they may have come to the realisation that their liver just can’t take another night at Halo; either way, these intrepid folk must be praised for their outstanding willpower. For the first 31 days of the New Year (or for however long they decide to do it), they will be the officially designated ‘sensible adult’ at all social engagements. The Dry Januarys are easy to spot, as they are the ones soberly sipping their fifth diet coke of the evening, looking very bored while their inebriated chums slowly descend into incoherence. As well as not being able to join in on the drunken fun, they may well be the ones tasked with getting their paralytic friends home without choking on their own vomit or getting stabbed. No matter which way you look at it, it certainly looks like they have a fun few months ahead of them.

The Penny Pincher

This person was hundreds of pounds into their overdraft within weeks of the first semester and they have decided to give themselves an intervention. The Bank of Mum and Dad has officially been closed, so until the next lot of student loan comes in, discount chicken ramen noodles are their new best friend. While their peers are having takeaways and paying £5 entry to clubs, they are forcibly smiling at their meagre dinners and are opting for a night in front of 4od. It can somewhat be a nuisance to live under the same roof as a Penny Pincher, as the heating is almost never on and every invitation to do something other than miserably watching Jeremy Kyle is met with a sullen ‘I can’t afford it’. However, this will all soon be over once third semester comes around, when their last lot of loan is safely in the bank. They will frivolously spend, forgetting all that they learned in those tough months, only to leave themselves desperately out of pocket. And so the cycle continues.

The Gym Bunny

Whether they’re aiming to climb the Parkinson Steps without breaking out a sweat, or wanting to further chisel their Adonis-like form, people all over campus are renewing their Edge membership in an attempt to battle the post-Yuletide lethargy. It is normally very difficult to be friends with a gym bunny at this time of year, as every single question about their day or invitation is answered with crazed mutterings about cardio and lifting weights. There is something about the Gym Bunny that almost seems mechanical. The relentless pursuit of a sweet bod calls to mind Arnie’s persistent hunt for Sarah Connor. While the Calorie Counter can almost become atrophied in their quest for health, the struggle seems to make the Gym Bunny more powerful, until they practically become an unstoppable juggernaut. The Gym Bunny may keep up this routine for months on end, but will gradually become more and more human as time goes on, once they learn the correct balance between the treadmill and being a functioning human being.

The Baby Vegetarian

The Baby Vegetarian’s New Year’s resolution is to never eat meat ever again. They will often be found in Waterstones, piles of vegetarian cookbooks in hand as they realise that all cooking experience they’ve ever had has been centred around the preparation of animal flesh. The realisation may also have suddenly dawned on them that all the places that were once their favourite eating establishments now have two, slightly anaemic, dishes to offer them. Another notable feature of the Baby Vegetarian is the inability to not talk about the fact that they have just become vegetarian. Seemingly oblivious about whether their friends care about it or not, they will regale them with stories about how they’re feeling so much healthier now in enviable, moralistic vitriol. Despite their newfound holier-than-thou attitude, you may find Baby Vegetarians eating foods that the Veteran Vegetarians wouldn’t touch with a barge pole, such as Nutella and Tangfastics.

Brigitte Phillips