Contrary to what I generally tell people, the happiest moment of my life was not the day I got married, nor the final push when I gave birth to either of my two kids. It was the day a driver tailgated me relentlessly for five miles and then sped away — until he got pulled over by a state trooper.

Although I know it is better to forgive and forget, I am just not one of those people who is able to let these things just roll off me. There’s a big chip on my shoulder that usually gets in the way. However, I do realize that I might live a longer, healthier life if I didn’t carry a grudge — or 20 grudges, as the case may be. So, this year, I decided for my New Year’s resolution to vary from my usual pledge to lose 10 pounds, to a promise to be a less vengeful person.

Therefore, in an effort to get 2018 off on the right foot, I make the following amends:

To the guy I met at the cash machine who told me I’d look more like a lady if I grew my hair longer: I take back the comment I made that bald men shouldn’t throw stones.

To the man behind the counter at the store where I was returning a vacuum cleaner who made me wait 20 minutes while you pretended to read a blank piece of paper and then told me you were going on break, I apologize for telling you to “make like a vacuum and suck it.”

To the lady behind me on the supermarket checkout line who looked at the snack food I was buying for my kids and informed me that childhood obesity is the number one problem in America: I’m sorry I told you that people who comment on the food you are buying at the supermarket are the No. 1 problem in America.

To the mother who shrieked at her kids in front of me for no apparent reason: I regret telling you to be nicer to your kids because when they grow up they will pick out your nursing home.

To the guy in the fancy car who took up two parking spaces when the lot was full. I’m sorry my little car could still fit in half a spot and I parked so close you had to climb in your car from the hatchback.

To the lady at the DMV who was just unbelievably rude to me: I’m sorry for asking you if you also need a license to work there and make everyone’s life a living hell.

And finally, to the girl at the cosmetics counter in the department store who told me I needed six different products for my wrinkles and sagging skin, I apologize for telling you that people who work in department stores have the highest rate of premature aging.

I’ll try to come up with better retorts next year.

— For more Lost in Suburbia, follow Tracy on Facebook at or on Twitter at @TracyBeckerman.