Dear 18-Year-Old Me,
Today at the gym, I spotted a girl who instantly reminded me of you. She strolled into the class, her middle-aged mother in tow, casting a condescending glance at the older women around her, who were preparing their lightweight equipment. With her fit legs on display, she made sure everyone noticed her superior physique as she chose the heaviest dumbbells available.
I recognized her immediately because you are just like her. You equate slimness with fitness and view fuller figures as weak and unworthy. If you could see me now, you’d probably be lamenting the size of our thighs and trying to hide our arms under sleeves. Looking in the mirror, you would likely drop your fork and swear off anything but diet soda and low-fat yogurt.
But you don’t yet see the strength hidden beneath what you perceive as sag. It might take years for you to understand, but I wish I could share this with you:
My thighs, although dimpled and fuller than yours, can carry an 8-year-old who fell asleep while watching cartoons up a flight of stairs. My arms, adorned with loose skin, can hoist a squirming toddler along with multiple grocery bags through a parking lot. My abs, shrouded beneath a soft layer of skin, have accomplished more than a hundred of your feeble sit-ups ever could.
Sure, you might be faster on the track, but wait until you see who reaches the playground first when a kid tumbles off the swing. You can run without losing your breath? Well, I’m navigating through the marathon of motherhood and managing just fine.
My day involves countless trips up and down stairs for forgotten items, pulling a wagon full of kids and supplies to the pool, juggling laundry, hoisting children up to monkey bars, and maneuvering loaded trash cans to the curb — all while managing to maintain some semblance of order.
Remember how Mom helped pack your college boxes, and Dad carried your heavy stuff into your dorm? Well, we handle our own boxes now because waiting for help isn’t a luxury we have. When you’re balancing your family’s needs, a 10-pound dumbbell feels light compared to the weight of responsibility you carry daily.
Some days, I manage all this on just five hours of sleep after being jolted awake by a nightmare or a sick child. When mothers pull all-nighters, we don’t get to sleep until noon the next day. The physical fitness required for parenting pales in comparison to the mental stamina it demands.
Yes, right now you can navigate an obstacle course better than I can, but can you rush through a grocery store to drop one kid off at soccer, take another to the doctor, pack for a road trip, load the car, walk the dog, and water the garden while juggling emails and conference calls? Probably not. That’s some coordination you haven’t quite mastered yet, especially since you can barely make it to class three days a week in anything other than pajamas.
You can race, but can you endure? You may possess the muscles, but you still lack the true strength. Moms persevere when they’re exhausted, when headaches hit, and when their minds are overwhelmed. You may have changed your major three times in a semester, but I don’t have the luxury of dropping this class—ever. It’s called resilience, little one, and it’s what remains when all pretenses vanish. Unfortunately, you’ll need a couple more decades to grasp this fully.
So, flaunt your skinny legs and perfect abs in that tiny bikini. Take plenty of pictures because the swimsuit contest won’t go in your favor for much longer. Keep training and evolving because one day you’ll have children of your own, and then you’ll truly understand what it means to be strong—inside and out. You’ll wear larger clothes and carry extra weight, and your skin won’t have the firmness it does today, but you’ll discover you’re in the best shape of your real life.
With love,
The Fabulous Older You