As the clock inches toward midnight on Dec. 31, people aspiring to change in some way outline their New Year’s resolutions: exercise more, practice mindfulness, save money. This annual tradition, however, has shifted from a path to self-improvement towards a consumer-driven ritual.  

On paper, New Year’s resolutions sound promising. A Washington Post survey found 48% of people made a New Year’s resolution for 2026, with wellness goals like exercising, eating healthier or saving more money among the most popular. But intentions for self-improvement and outcomes tell very different stories.  

Research shows that roughly 9% of people successfully stick with their resolutions, with steep drop-offs occurring in early January. Even in the age of wellness cultures and stacking habits that promise to help us achieve goals, 88% resolutions fail within the first two weeks.  

Part of this disconnect stems from how we set resolutions. Waiting until Dec. 31 to overhaul one’s life feels arbitrary and disconnected to one’s actual routines or capacities. Real change is incremental and rooted in daily life, yet we find comfort in the idea that our habits can change immediately just because it is a fresh year.  

The consumerism around resolutions compounds this problem. Few of us embark on self-improvement without the invisible nudge of a product marketed as essential to success. Scrolling through social media, I have found products such as LED red light face masks to treat aging and acne, overpriced fitness gear meant to redefine your workouts, tech like the Oura ring to optimize your sleep or premium journals marketed as inspirational tools for intentional living.  

The pressure to consume is deliberately constructed. Corporations and advertisers have learned to treat the New Year as a predictable moment of vulnerability, ripe for monetization. Resolutions are framed as problems to be solved through purchases, as algorithms flood our feeds with ads implying that self-improvement is best achieved through paid products. In this way, corporations co-opt New Year’s resolutions by redirecting personal desires for change into market opportunities. The language of growth, wellness and self-actualization is stripped of its meaning and sold back to us. 

There is nothing inherently wrong with buying products that genuinely support a goal or enhance an existing habit. New running shoes can make training safer; a planner can help organize an already established routine. My concern is not with intentional purchases but with the growing belief that these products are necessary for success. Too often, the focus shifts from building consistency to acquiring tools, creating the illusion that progress is something you can buy rather than practice. 

Discipline, consistency and self-reflection — which are free — remain in the core engines of real change. Yet we are conditioned to believe that spending money equals seriousness about our goals.

This consumer pressure affects Tulane students differently. The median family income of a Tulane student is reported at $180,700, and university reporting shows the average net price after aid for Tulane undergraduates is $39,614 a year — a significant financial commitment even with grants and scholarships factored in. Adding the cost of trend-driven products leaves me wondering, who gets to afford self-improvement? 

For the city of New Orleans, the median household income sits around $55,000, highlighting how far luxury consumerism sits from economic reality for many in our community. For students juggling tuition, rent, books and living expenses, it is discouraging to see influencers and peers promote expensive products as the key to New Year’s success.    

I am not immune to these impulses. I’ve been tempted to buy planners simply for an aesthetic or to believe that a fitness class subscription equates to genuine health benefits. That temptation is part of being human. We want fresh starts and quick fixes. But objects on their own don’t deliver sustainable change.  

So, as you think about the year ahead, consider this: What if we judge our progress not by what we buy, but by what we do consistently?  

Change does not require a deadline or a loaded Amazon cart. What it does require is for us to reflect honestly and set realistic expectations while showing up for ourselves daily with grace and patience, even when the algorithm might not be cheering us on.  

For those who feel stuck in the cycle of lofty resolutions that fizzle by mid-January, remember your habits, environment and daily choices are where real transformation lives, and none of that needs to cost a thing.