The seven ages of woman. Or, why I'm not having a happy birthday.

It's my birthday today. Apart from the cake, I'm not particularly happy about this. (Cue compulsory 'at least I'm still here', blah blah, disclaimer.)

Lots of people today have wished me happy birthday. People younger than me.

I used to be politically correct but I'm all right now

Sometimes I think I should stop reading the Guardian.

Brand loyalty is all very well, and I'm normally happy to define myself as a Guardianista - with all that implies. (I own a bicycle, but rarely use it. I hate supermarkets, but shop at Tesco. I worry about climate change, and drive a car.)

But sometimes I do get annoyed.

Life's too short for New Year Resolutions

I have no aims for 2012. I'm tired of telling myself I 'should' be doing or being something I'm not. Life's too short.

This year I won't eat my five-a-day, take more exercise, drink less beer, get more sleep.

I won't spend less time on the internet, read more books, blog every week, remember to mow the lawn.

I won't lose a stone, measure my carbon footprint, cut my carbs, use less packaging, get off the bus early.

I won't go for a walk in my lunch hour. I won't get up early for anything.

I won't 'be my own life coach'. I'm not setting goals. The only lists I make will be shopping lists.

I've finished with self improvement. I will never make a New Year resolution again.

The problem is, doesn't all that sound just like one?