Dear 18-Year-Old Me,
Today, at the gym, I saw a young woman who instantly reminded me of you. She strutted into the class beside her mother, casting a condescending glance at the older women preparing with light weights. I observed her toned legs as she stretched at the front, deliberately selecting the heaviest dumbbells, clearly eager to showcase her fitness superiority.
You would recognize her immediately, as you once shared the same perspective. You equate physical appearance with fitness and view fuller figures as weak and undesirable. If you could witness my current self, I can imagine you gasping at the size of my thighs and concealing my arms under long sleeves. A glance in the mirror would have you abandoning your lunch for a renewed commitment to low-fat yogurt and diet beverages.
But what you don’t realize is the resilience that lies beneath my skin. My thighs, now soft and fuller than yours, are capable of climbing stairs while carrying an 8-year-old who has dozed off in front of the television. My arms, adorned with loose skin, can effortlessly lift a wiggling toddler and manage multiple grocery bags through a parking lot. My core, hidden beneath a layer of skin, has executed more movements than you could imagine.
Sure, you may be faster on a track, but when a child tumbles off a swing, let’s see who reaches them first. You can sprint without losing your breath, but I’m navigating a marathon of daily life, thriving on the challenges it brings.
My routine now consists of running up and down stairs searching for forgotten items, hauling a wagon filled with children and necessities to the pool, and managing laundry while lifting kids to reach the monkey bars. Unlike your past when you relied on your parents to help with heavy boxes for college, I’m now lifting my own burdens because time is of the essence. When you’re responsible for a family, a 10-pound dumbbell is often the lightest thing you’ll lift in a day.
There are days when I operate on just five hours of sleep, having been woken by a child’s nightmare or illness. When mothers pull all-nighters, there’s no sleeping in until noon. The physical demands of parenthood pale in comparison to the mental strength required to thrive in this role.
Yes, you can navigate an obstacle course with agility, but can you manage a grocery run while juggling soccer practices, doctor appointments, packing for road trips, loading the car, tending to the dog, and watering the garden—all while responding to emails? Probably a bit more coordination than you’re accustomed to, considering you barely make it to class in anything other than pajamas.
You may have muscles, but can you endure the relentless challenges of parenthood? Moms push through exhaustion, headaches, and chaos. While you may have changed your major multiple times in a semester, I can’t just drop this class. It’s called resilience, and it will take you a couple more decades to truly understand its value.
So enjoy your youth, flaunt your flawless physique, and capture every moment because the swimsuit contests won’t last forever. Keep training and evolving, for one day you’ll embrace motherhood, and you’ll discover true strength—both inside and out. Your clothes may become roomier, and your skin may lose its firmness, but you will ultimately be in the best shape of your real life.
Warm regards,
The Fabulous Older You