I hate to brag.

People are constantly telling me, “Hey guy, who’s face is in every email you send out and splashed prominently on the header of your blog, you’re too humble! Live a little!”

But most days I refuse, content to live in the Internet shadows. A quiet pixel cobbler, working in silence on tweets and blog posts. Today though, I will brag. I will tell you proudly of a New Year’s Resolution I have kept for close to four decades.

Pray tell, what could this be? What feat am I about to share? Brace yourself, winter isn’t coming, it’s already here, but the knowledge I am about to drop on you is heavy like Marty McFly warned.

For 39 years in a row I have refused to get a massage from a mall kiosk.

Let that sink in for a moment friend, bask in the glory of that accomplishment.

While others cave, thinking to themselves, “You know who I want to give me a lower back massage? A stranger in the mall,” I have stayed strong.

They call to me. They do and yet, I walk by.

Sure, it would be easy. It would be cheap, but the consequences of this are far too ridiculous.

Why would I refuse to make eye contact with every other kiosk in the mall, for fear that they will spray me with some sort of celebrity perfume, only to then ask one of them for a back rub? That makes absolutely no sense.

The only thing more awkward than a public kiosk mall massage is the conversations you have to have with friends who try to justify doing this. The mall massage apologists are the worst.

They will talk of value. I will talk of dignity.

They will talk of convenience. I will argue that the ability to have a massage next to a Cinnabon is inconvenient to your heart.

They will talk of relaxation. I will talk of the helicopter salesman who hopes after a quick back rub from a person you’ve never met in one of the most public places on the planet, you will come to sample his wares.

No, no, my crusade will continue in 2015.

[Tweet “Friends don’t let friends get massages from mall kiosks. “]

I hope it never comes to this, but if it does, let’s be clear: If you ever get kidnapped and the only way to save you is for me to get a massage at a mall, I bet people will say nice things at your funeral.

Call me crazy. Call me a revolutionary. I will not budge. I will not break. I will not lay facedown next to Spencer’s and pretend that’s not silly.

Hurrah for the resolutions you make and most importantly, in the case of my proud stand, actually keep.

Here’s to a mall massage free 2015!