I am breaking the “No New Year’s resolutions” resolution I made several years ago.

It seems lazy, and downright un-American, to start the year off without at least ONE goal for motivation. After all, what else is there to think about on New Year’s Day except how to cook black-eyed peas and which pajamas to wear while lolling on the couch?

Who am I to decide, at the tender age of 51, that I’ve no room left for self-improvement? Am I so all-fired perfect that I can’t strive to better myself in some way? That’s a bit arrogant, don’t you think? (It’s like I always say, people who wear 10-year-old underwear have no business being haughty.)

Besides, not making resolutions on Jan. 1 feels like giving up hope – the hope that springs perennial for a better, slimmer, more organized, new me. The me who makes more time for friends and less room for worry and guilt. The more benevolent, better-read and healthier me who never misses a vitamin supplement and always RSVPs to invitations.

Yet, like many people who have sworn off the dreaded annual declarations, I hesitate to commit for one reason: fear of failure.

Failure seems to be the self-fulfilling prophecy of every New Year’s resolution ever made over a morning glass of Alka-Seltzer.

But why? Why do so many of us renege on our self-promises before the kick-off on Super Bowl Sunday?

Because we’re setting the bar way too high, that’s why.

Over the years, I have learned that the key to success is to set goals that are not only reasonable, but ridiculously easy to achieve. I’ve spent a lifetime reaching for the stars, only to discover the beauty in rock-bottom expectations.

So, from now on, when setting my personal bar, I’ll put on my scratchy copy of “Limbo Rock” and see how LOW I can GO! The lower, the better. In fact, I’m going to set the darn thing on the floor and jump over it with both feet. I’ll make it impossible to fail. 2007 will be a banner year for my self-esteem.

Back in those ambitious reach-for-the-stars days, the “old me” would stridently resolve to GET ORGANIZED ONCE AND FOR ALL! This was an impossibly tall order and completely unattainable given my family history of underdeveloped left-brains. Still, year after year, I would wake up Jan. 1 and promptly empty ALL of my drawers and closets at once. Nine hours later, my family would find me dazed and confused, randomly stuffing everything in again, mumbling under my breath, “Bad idea, bad idea :”

Sometimes, I would cry.

This year, the “new me” realizes that “once and for all” organization is a pipe dream. Therefore, I hereby resolve – and you can hold me to this – to REMOVE ENOUGH STUFF FROM THE JUNK DRAWER IN THE KITCHEN SO IT CLOSES ALL THE WAY! If I put my mind to it, I’ll be done by noon tomorrow!

In years past, the “old me” would announce to anyone who would listen, “I am going to lose ALL of my excess weight!” This year, the “new me” declares – drumroll, please – I am going to lose ALL of my excess diet books.

The “old me” would resolve not to worry about things over which I have no control. In 2007, the “new me” promises not to agonize over the fat content in cheese.

Why stop now? I’m on a roll :

Old me: No more excessive spending.

New me: Just one vanilla latte with soy per day.

Old me: Read one important book a month.

New me: Skim the best-seller list every Sunday.

Old: Exercise 40 minutes a day.

New: Remove the hanging clothes from the treadmill.

Old: Get out of debt.

New: Pay late fees at video store.

And just before I pile my plate too high with lofty expectations, I will stop my resolution making, sit back and relax.

After all, I’ve got to have something to shoot for in 2008.