How can I possibly be a Beachbody Coach… I don’t have a Beachbody body! I have sagging bits, and lumpy bits, and bits that wobble. I haven’t worn a bikini since I was fourteen. Hells, I haven’t worn a bathing suit for ten years! Swimming? Shorts and bra and tank top. Weird, but it protects the innocent. No one needs to see that. Right?
Here we are.
I am fifty. I’m a high school teacher, a mother of four, happily divorced, and struggling with the spectre of menopause on the horizon. Have you noticed, as soon as you approach a certain age, that anytime you mention that you’re tired, or cranky, or hot, or sad your well-meaning friends immediately leap to blame the Meno? Perimenopause, Menopause, Post-Menopause…it’s as if, once we cross the threshold of middle age, we are defined by our ovaries and we’re powerless to overcome the chaos that is our destiny… well, I say… NO.
A resounding NO.
Over the last few years I have become… tired. I get sad easily. I get hurt easily, emotionally and physically. I’ve steadily gained weight, not oppressively, but steadily. Probably five pounds a year. Once upon a time, I could pick up an aerobics class, or increase my walking and I would notice the change in my body. Used to be, I didn’t have to work very hard to stay moderately healthy. Those days are over. I have fat where fat has never been before. I can feel the bulge under my arms, my lower back jiggles when I walk, my thighs rub together and my boobs each weigh as much as my weiner dog. And these physical changes directly affect my emotional well-being. I don’t want to go out, I don’t want to dress nicely, I expect people to not like me. I anticipate failing at my various endeavors, because… I suck. Look at me! I’m a lumpy middle-aged woman with wattles and an aching cervix! How can anyone possibly like me?
Well, I say… NO.
I refuse to spend the last half of my life… yes, HALF, that’s a lot of years, people… being a victim of my own deficiencies. I REFUSE to allow menopause to turn me into a person I don’t recognize. Having spent thirty years raising my children and caring for my family, I am now going to take care of my body and my brain so I can enjoy my adult children actively instead of from behind a wine bottle, propped up on the sofa, crocheting dishcloths and complaining because the chips are too far to reach.
Three months in, I’ve lost fifteen pounds and fourteen inches. I’ve gone from dreading starting the 30-minute video exercises, to looking forward to them and doing TWO videos a day. I’ve gone from barely managing to shuffle my way through the 21 Day Fix modified (thank you Kat-On-My-Right, you awesome thing you!) to shuffling my way through 21 Day Fix Extreme with uncoordinated forays into Core de Force and PiYo.
Am I still jiggling? Yes.
Am I still having periods that drain my life essence like the Niagra unleashed? Yes.
Am I still sore after every workout? Yes.
But I’m so much happier! I am dealing with stress and anxiety so much better. I am wearing clothes that fit and getting compliments on my appearance. I am feeling alive and engaged and eager to see what else I can do. My Love has told me that my ass is smaller!
And I know I’m not alone.
I’m betting there are others like me out there wobbling a weary path to the snack aisle and hating themselves for it.
Getting older as a woman doesn’t have to be like that. It can be different. You can be different.
Are you, me?
If you are interested in learning more about the Beachbody programs, or you want to share stories about your uterus, or you just want to say hello, please do so! You can message me here on my blog, or you can connect with me through these channels: