I must have missed the memo. You know, the one that demanded that I be a better person this year. Less than a week after the first of the year, I’ve broken most of the well meaning resolutions I set. And, you know what? I’m okay with that.

Maybe, I’m content to be the dented can in the grocery store of life.

A dented can means you’ve seen your share of shuffling around on the shelf and you’re still standing. Your expiration date may be a bit closer than the new shiny cans, but that slight bulge around the middle means you’ve got a little something extra.

My dented can life means I’m not thin-skinned, like hippie gluten free bread. Fads come and go and a little plastic wrap isn’t going to keep you from growing mold. There’s something to be said about the stability of a can. I won’t get crushed into potato chip dust when I get stepped on. I might be the last thing standing when the zombie apocalypse occurs. (Or a presidential election – which could be the same thing)

When a shake up inevitably occurs, the dents and wrinkles will keep me from rolling off the shelf. Those new, fancy cans will fall and tumble out the door. I’ll still be here. My label might be a bit faded, but there’s still something worthwhile inside.

If you look closely at the new cans, they’re full of additives, GMO this and artificial that. What’s inside isn’t even real. It’s like an online dating profile.

So, here’s to being a dented can and I’m fine with it.