While I admit to disliking many things about being “middle age” (Okay, let’s just start there; that term is one of the first things I hate about the whole age thing, but I regress…), probably the biggest hang up I have is the whole weight issue.
In the past, read 5 years ago, I would gain a few pounds, then catch myself, and diet a bit and exercise and loose the weight within a few weeks. My body and I had an understanding. I took care of it (somewhat) and it was good to me (or as good as it can be when I fed it too much chocolate and not enough fruit!)
But, since turning 45, my body has turned on me. It has abandoned me in my greatest time of need. It has changed the rules, and I am here to say, loudly, I DON’T LIKE IT ONE BIT!
Oh, I heard the grumblings from family and friends. I was forewarned of this betrayal, but I simply refused to believe it could happen to ME!
These days, I glance in my mirror and wonder, who is this middle-aged woman gazing back? Surely it’s not me!
The round, wrinkled face, dry, frizzy hair, and muffin-topped hips couldn’t possibly be mine, could they?
Perhaps my biggest complaint is the fact that I truly believe I am eating better and healthier, and I am exercising 4-5 times a week, and I am still not loosing the weight. This worked in the past. Why not now body? Why have you turned on me? It’s just not fair.
Well, as my mom always said, life isn’t fair.
I’ve lived in denial for over a year, and I am finally coming to realize that, whine as I might, my body will not change unless I do.
I’ve learned that chocolate cupcakes, cheese, and beer can no longer be staples in my diet.
I’ve accepted the fact that the gym is my new morning hot spot, and the walking trail is my new social meeting place.
I’ve replaced People magazine with Prevention magazine, and started reading food labels as closely as I once read romance novels.
I’ve filled my drawers with exercise clothes and sports bras, and am more apt to ask a woman “where’d you get those sneakers” instead of “where’d you get those boots.”
Yes, I’ve acquiesced to the realization that I am reaching a certain age and that I need to take better care of my body with the hopes that it will take better care of me in the future.
However, I have not, nor ever will, call myself middle-aged. I prefer to think of myself as in my prime! Take that body!