I'm giving up giving up. Giving up is the new black, the latest trend. Everyone I know is giving up something.
They announce things like, "I gave up smoking and I feel so fresh." Or "I gave up diet sodas and lost 15 pounds." Or, smugly, "I gave up drinking and found nirvana."
I like nirvana as much as the next guy and so I tried to keep up with the Joneses. I gave up red meat and hard liquor and Fox news and skydiving. But I always missed out on the virtue. I gave up butter and my cholesterol shot up. I gave up chocolate and put on 20 pounds.
And the Joneses were still joining 12-step groups and running marathons, training their dogs to eat vegetarian and meditate. But for all my giving up cotton candy and therapy and tattoos, not once did I get even remotely close to nirvana. Instead of giving up, I was giving out.
The last straw was my husband. He announced that he was giving up our morning Starbucks and I thought, "I'd rather give up gay marriage. Or the children.. Not that I don't love him or our two sons or our four dogs but I don't want to face any of them without caffeine."