Resolutions are a waste of time. And they bring back painful memories of when my mother would make me diet to lose weight, which I first remember her doing when I was around seven or eight years old. She once made me write down everything I ate and keep it on the fridge where everyone could see it. Eating a slice of apple pie for dessert was deepest shame.
She'd also make me stay outside from morning until lunch, and then again until suppertime. It didn't matter that it was January and freezing and boring, because she grew up in an era when parents made kids practically live outside. In the summer, anyway.
And it never worked. Threatening, punishing, bribing, pleading... only resulted in microscopic success or none at all. I know my mother just wanted me to be healthy and happy, and live long, but...