... to iron. Seriously, people, when was the last time you looked at someone you happened across during your day and thought 'My god, your clothes are crumpled. I judge you.'? Never, right? So why bother.
Oh, and if you did? Shame on you. SHAME ON YOU. You non-crumpled-clothes wearing smug person.
... to give a shit about that bitch over there. She does not deserve your thought space. She'll get her comeuppance. And you, girlfriend, are worth SO much more. You go girl. (In my other life I am almost definitely an American cheerleader.)
... to worry about how much you are educating/entertaining/spending quality time with your children. You know what? They don't care. And if they do care, they're highly unlikely to remember. I can barely remember anything prior to the age of 18. (I may be a special case.)
... to get all angsty over your cellulite. You have it. I have it. I reckon even Kate Moss has it. (On her earlobes, most likely, but still.) Lumpy skin is a fact of life. Embrace the lumps.
... to fret about who's reading your blog/who's not reading your blog/who's slagging off your blog/who gives a flying fuck about your blog. You know what? YOU WROTE THAT BLOG. You sat down, all by yourself, and typed a coherent set of words on a computer screen for other people to read. You are bloody MARVELLOUS.
... to buy clothes a size too small, in the hope that you might want day fit into them. No one wants fabulous clothes they can't wear. Do yourself - and your cellulite - a favour and treat yourself to the right flipping size.
... to have bad sex. Or, worse still, no sex at all. Make it your mission in life to have good sex - nay, GREAT sex - as often as you possibly can. (Note: this doesn't necessarily have to result in a change of partner. Might possibly have to result in a bit of training, but that's half the fun.)
... to wear sensible shoes. Shoes were not made to be functional, shoes were made to be things of beauty. Go forth and wear beautiful things on your feet. And accept that every now and then they will result in hospitalisation (for you, or for other innocent bystanders). It's an appropriate trade off.
... not to tell people you love them. Your kids. Your partner (it's a bit terrifying how many people forget this bit once they have kids). Your family. Your friends. Your work colleagues. (Well, maybe careful how you word it with the last group. A claim of sexual harassment isn't quite what you're after.)
... to drink cheap wine. (Whilst obviously accepting that if the choice is between 'no wine' and 'cheap wine', cheap wine always wins.)
LIFE IS TOO FLIPPING SHORT. C'mon people, add your own... and go forth and LIVE.