At aged 11, I was no life coach.

Ever been told you should do something that would have made your 11-year-old self proud?

To this advice I say, “bollocks”; because 11-year-old Danni was a twit.

A loveable twit, granted. But truly, as a tween my idea of an adult life worth living would have constituted not having to eat vegetables quite so often, owning at least a dozen dogs, and marrying Ace Frehley, the guitarist with the band Kiss.

Suffice to say, I was no life coach.

My new year's resolution, therefore, is to do more things that would in fact have mortified 11-year-old me.

1. To unapologetically and unashamedly enjoy myself.

I remember that at some stage during my teen years I decided that joy was something best expressed only behind closed doors. I’d cover my mouth when I giggled and strive to maintain my composure when given a compliment by perhaps dismissing it with a shrug. Who wants to be an annoyingly jovial Ralph Malph, when one can instead be an aloof Fonzie?

And yet nowadays, much to my children’s dismay, I can barely contain my delight with the world. I cry with happiness in films, smile at people I pass in the street, and say hello to folks in lifts. Apparently, my kids tell me, these behaviours are both awkward and cringe-worthy.

Too bad. I’ve learnt that playing it cool isn’t actually cool at all, it’s icy and uninteresting.

If I’m happy and I know it, I might even clap my hands.

2. To wear what I want.

Despite the fact I was an extremely thin child, I recall covering myself up with towels and T-shirts at the swimming pool lest anyone notice the roll on my tummy I could just manage to grab a hold of if I contorted myself in a particular way (proof positive, I thought at the time, that I was fat).

Thankfully, I’ve spent decades in detox. Not through eliminating foods, but rather from building up my resilience to the messages we are bombarded with that aim to convince us the only way we will be loved is if we conform to a narrow definition of beauty. That’s not to say I don’t try to find the most flattering swimmers (we are all works in progress) but, for the most part I silence my inner, insecure tween, pull on my big girl pants and dive in to join the fun (see point 1).

3. To embrace routine.

There was nothing more infuriating to 11-year-old Danni than being told she had to go to bed straight after her favourite TV show, Prisoner, had finished.

I felt such a sense of solidarity with the women of Wentworth who were also ordered about: down with “screws” and their rules! Down with parents and their bedtimes!

Yet in adulthood, I’ve discovered there’s nothing I like more than being able to counter the chaos of life as a working, single mum with regular bedtimes, and the comfort of a few simple daily routines.

Grand adventures and spontaneity are, well — grand. But so, too, is getting into bed by nine, reading for a bit, then switching off both the lights, and my mind.

4. To value quality over quantity.

For a young girl, not getting an invite to a party was a deeply felt social slur — how is it possible that not everyone likes me, all the time? And while I had a definite BFF, I also liked nothing more than engaging in the popularity competition that most of my peers also engaged in.

Now, just as I’d prefer a handful of Haigh’s Chocolates to an entire showbag of Bertie Beatles, I’ve learnt that sometimes a few choice mates is in fact preferable to exhausting myself trying to stay connected to a host of people I may not even particularly like very much.

Growing up is surely all about letting go of the desire to impress everyone — even your own inner child — and learning how to live your life authentically.

And while it’s tempting to idealise our carefree childhood days, and the dreams we once held dear, this year I’m also embracing the more adult version of me.

She may not own a menagerie of mutts or be dating a rock star, but she’s someone I’m proud to say I actually quite like.