GOING from Christmas to New Year is like swapping an armchair next to the fire for a grey Monday morning coated in drizzle.

You are lulled into thinking chocolate for breakfast is socially acceptable and then, like a blast of cold air, you are told to get down the gym, fatty, and sort yourself out.

Social conventions abandoned without a backwards glance in December suddenly come back into play on January 1.

Brie and turkey sandwiches at 9am become 'the sign of a problem', slumping in front of the telly starts to be considered a waste of time and clothes covered in sequins or glitter are banned from being seen in public.

Not least because the only places you are allowed to go for the first week in January are fitness classes or the fruit and veg aisle in Morrisons (to stave off selection box-induced scurvy).

If that wasn't enough, you have to pick yourself up from chocolate cold turkey (or turkey cold turkey) and grade yourself on what can be done better over the next 12 months.

So this year I plan to buck the trend.

In 2014 I got married, pregnant and won an award at work, so I think I've done enough life-changing-for-the-better to carry me through at least 2015.

Now I'm on the brink of maternity leave (tomorrow is my last day) and between then and the baby being born I plan to do Absolutely Nothing.

I will not be giving up Chocolate Oranges, I will not be taking down my fairy lights and I will definitely not be moving from in front of the telly.

I have weeks worth of rom-coms saved on the Sky Planner that Smithy will not watch - so until The Big Day the most strenuous thing I'll be doing is reaching for the remote.

I may also stir occasionally to make another cuppa - although I have high hopes I can train the cat to do that for me.

So, for those of you who plan to start a diet/gym obsession on New Year's Day, I can only offer my condolences.

Or at least I can offer them as long as they don't take too much effort.