The View at 40 | Why the Year Hasn’t Begun Until You’ve Barfed

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The View at 40 | Why the Year Hasn’t Begun Until You’ve Barfed

Illustration: Akshita Monga

I

f you’ve noticed, halfway through the first month of the New Year, something strange begins to happen. Two weeks of jumping on and off treadmills and chugging kale smoothies for breakfast, you begin to sprout a halo. No really. Your skin shines like it’s sprinkled with moon dust, your gut is flush with good enzymes since you’ve stopped Swiggy-ing on speed, and you’re all zen now that you’re abstaining from all drinking, abusing, drugging, outraging, bingeing, and sexting. You’ve even organised your house into Marie Kondo’s wet dream and acquired a shit load of serenity.

At this point you’re barely even human. You’re a bundle of good karma cruising on the highway to nirvana, expected to check right out of the birth cycle at the next exit.

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