Epiphanies about jiggles and being almost 50

​A big epiphany hit me last week at the beach. Whilst surrounded by beautiful, young women most of which looked like they were pulled straight out of a magazine, I found myself comparing my body to theirs. These were not 49 year old women. These were women, but girls really, that were 20-nothing. 

I had a meltdown in a moment that 20 minutes prior to, I was absolutely feeling cute. I was like….ok girlllllll!! Jessica stopped and took a picture of me with a tree that I just loved. I thought dang! This is cute! Then I looked at the picture that she took. I made the mistake of zooming in. Why the absolute fuck did I do that?! Zooming in is not your friend. That zoom ho is not doing anyone any favors. In that zoomed in picture I saw every bump. Every lump. Every sag of my thighs. Every wrinkle. The thought even now almost a week later makes me tear up. Why is that?

Jessica and I spent a lot of time talking about it. I look at her and see perfection. She’s everything I have always wanted. Clear, smooth skin. Beautiful eyes not the color of poop. Boobs where they are supposed to be. Not me. I’m bumpy and have dookie brown eyes. My boobs took a trip south while simultaneously looking like every bit of them deflated like a balloon after a birthday party. In our talks, she relayed that I had the things she wanted. She loved my shoulders because she didn’t like hers. She liked my hair that I have that is fake blonde. She liked that I didn’t have freckles like her. 

After we covered that, we made some observations. We are both almost 50. She doesn’t look like it because that girl never ages. I tell her it’s because not only does she not have kids, she doesn’t surround herself with them either. 🤣🤣 That said, we both have lived almost 50 years. Those girls with the perfect asses with their thong bathing suits haven’t. They haven’t had a baby like me. They haven’t lost 125 pounds like me. They haven’t lived through the very tough losses we have. They haven’t seen the things we have. And then we realized—we have normal almost 50 year old bodies. Normal bodies have bumps, scars, weird skin. Normal bodies have cellulite. Normal bellies have a pooch. People who have had babies rarely ever look the same. We acknowledged that we both go to the gym. We both work on building strength. And I realized no amount of dance, Pilates or weight training will take care of the aftermath of skin that losing 125 pounds leaves you with. 

And guess what: we realized that while we don’t look like that perfect French girl with her perfect ass, we don’t have to, nor does it even matter. 

I marched my size 10 body right on to that beach and told Jessica to take the pictures. I didn’t tell her to make sure my jiggly legs didn’t show. I earned those legs. I gave up a lot to get them. I worked hard to lose the equivalent of that skinny ass girl with the bathing suit that didn’t cover but two nips and a cooter. Those pictures looked so good. They captured me in my favorite place in a bathing suit I’d never pick out myself (of course Jessica got it for me). I looked pretty darned good. 

I told her next year, we were sporting the bikinis. Because why the hell not? We don’t know the people at the beach. Why do we worry about what they have to say about our jibbly, wobbly bits? For that matter, why worry at all? There are always hotter girls. There are always judgy girls with their miserable lives. There are always younger girls. But I’m choosing to love my 49 year old body. It’s an act of defiance, independence, love, land a giant F you to anyone who says you have to be thin to enjoy your life. 

This is my every day struggle. It is what I think about more than I should. It’s what I think about when I pass the mirror every day, multiple times a day. It’s what I consider before I eat anything. Except at the beach where calories, sugar, and carbs don’t count. Does it hurt like hell because I don’t tolerate them? Yes, but that’s a yarn for another day.

My hope is that if you hear me talk about it, maybe you’ll feel less alone. Maybe you’ll start loving you too. Maybe you’ll think—“If she feels like this, it’s ok if I do too!”  

All of it is ok my friends. Go love on yourself this week. Wear the bathing suit. Give yourself credit. You deserve it. 

Love you. (And your wobbly bits too). Mean it more than you know. 

💜

I’m so proud of you.

Five words. That’s all it takes. I was talking to Troy tonight about my precious thoughts on things people say that resonate and then repeat over and over in people’s minds. This one really does it for me. 

I’m so proud of you. 

Those five words mean everything to someone who is actively trying. Trying to better themselves. Trying something new. Trying to learn. Trying to hold their shit together when nothing seems right. Trying to adult for the first time. Trying to be the best version of themselves. Trying not to escape. 

Troy and I were discussing the final scene of the Springsteen movie. Bruce just finished a huge show and sees his dad, the man who has always been a source of pain, frustration, and disappointment to him. The guy who was a WWII veteran. Who was of another time and of limited emotional capacity. He goes to his dad, and he tells him at age the age of 30 whatever to come sit on his lap. He proceeds to tell Bruce how proud he is of him. Bruce struggled for a big part of his life trying to reconcile issues with his dad. In that moment, they both healed a bit. It was a profound moment for me. Even someone on the top of his game needed to hear his dad was proud of him. 

In working with young children, nothing makes them light up like telling them you’re proud of them, especially when they’ve worked so hard and seemingly got only a little bit ahead. I told a second grader this year who, come to find out, was really struggling in reading. She has such a spirit that I never would have known. Kid reading is never really a focus of mine. You don’t have to be able to read to problem solve in my room. That said, she struggled and I didn’t know until all of her classmates came in with their AR test bead necklaces. They were all so proud of them. She hid hers. My eyes teared up as much as the Zoloft allowed and I pulled her aside. I told her, “sweet girl, I AM SO PROUD OF YOU. You work harder than any kid in this class to learn how to read. You absolutely will get there. I’m proud of how hard you work and how much you want to learn. And sissy, I love you so so much!” That kid lit up like a Christmas tree. 

For me, personally, I’ve had several people tell me how proud they are of me for dancing my ass off at the gym and working hard to get stronger. For those who don’t know me like that, it is a pretty big deal. I have two people tell me consistently how proud they are of me. I almost cry every single time. 

Now, the gym is one thing, but the one person I got to hear the words from was my mama. I can’t remember what the conversation exactly entailed. I just remember her being in her final weeks. We were sitting on her sofa in her favorite spot with a blanket my friend Jill gave her. Likely a cig in her hand. She told me how proud she was of me. I’m sure it had to do with being a mom, a teacher, a fairly fresh newlywed. I know I gave her fits. I wasn’t good at much besides being as dad always said “a jabberjaw”. By that time, while I did graduate from college with both a bachelors and masters level degree, a good teaching job, and a most amazing kid ever, I had also been a big fat failure at my first marriage, my finances, and to me, most everything on the planet. That said, hearing that she was proud of me was a big deal. Maybe I wasn’t as big of a fuckup as I thought. 

I’m not sure what the hang up is in telling people you’re proud of them or for that matter sharing anything with someone that is of an emotional nature. Is it a generational thing? Of the people who tell me regularly how proud they are of me are gen X folks. As a proud gen x’er I can say that I’m the worst at being emotionally secure, processing things, or being vulnerable at all.  I do feel fairly sure, however, that I’m better at it than previous generations have been. That said, I always want my kid to know I’m proud of him. My hope is that I can be better as the years go on. I never want to have a Springsteen moment with my kid, that’s for sure. 

My hope is that someone somewhere can take something from my ramblings and make a change in how they express their pride in their family, friends, and loved ones. Tell them how proud you are. Tell them you’re proud of the fact they didn’t eat cookie dough for breakfast. That might be their biggest accomplishment of the day. Sometimes the seemingly silly things mean more than the big ones, friends. 

Love your faces. I’m so proud of you for showing up, for being fabulous, for checking on your friends, for drinking your water, and for taking time for you. You deserve it. 💜💜

The things you say that stick

​I saw a video one day that said to be careful with the things you say to someone. Those people play back what you say in their heads time after time. It was one that stuck with me. Then I got to thinking about what those things were that people have said to me that stuck in my brain and have yet to leave. Perhaps you’ve heard these. Or said these. Or you have no idea the impact of your words and should. Any way you connect with it hopefully this will have you thinking. 

◦ You are so strong! 

This one has been said to me by  gym instructors within the last 6 months. Me? Strong? I wondered if I had hit my head for a second. But upon reflection I accepted it and went back to tell her how much that meant to me. I remind myself sometimes that yes, I am, in fact fairly strong! 

◦ You are an amazing (friend, teacher, etc)

I have a severe case of imposter syndrome in most every area of my life. I legit thought recently that at some point Jessica would leave me in the dust for being too much. I told her this and she was like: FRIEND. NEVER. She didn’t give me the option to let it sit in my mind a second more. Have I said lately she’s the best? 

As a teacher I struggle with my place. I’m not in the classroom anymore. My job is considerably less stressful than my homeroom teacher friends. I taught for over 20 years before getting this position. I know their worth. I know my worth too at times, but the ease that my experience and job afford me make me wonder if I’m even needed or good at it or whether what I deem important for kids is important or if I’m doing it “right”. Then that one kid or that one mom tells me I’m good at it and my brain finally calms down some. Praise be for kind parents and kids who get me. 

◦ You are an inspiration 

Inspiration? Me? Sister friend. I had a surgery. It’s not rocket science. But then I give myself a bit of credit for keeping this weight off and I’m like…sister! Thank you! I still think it’s an overstatement but how sweet for someone to think that! 

◦ You’ve got this, keep going 

This one hits. For every person who struggles. Say it. They may not have it at that moment. But they will. Myself included. Tell people this one often and mean it. They (read: me) will replay it over and over when  they want to quit. 

◦ The hurt doesn’t last forever 

There is more truth to this than anyone will ever know. Sometimes the hurt does last months or years. But never forever if you work on it. I’m in the middle of repeating this one to myself as I write this one. 

◦ You don’t have to 

I just told someone this this week. It’s true. You don’t have to accept less than you deserve. You don’t have to go to the baby shower when you’re secretly hurting from a miscarriage  no one knows about. You don’t have to go to a party that will give you a panic attack. You don’t have to apologize for being a human fucking being. Ever. 

◦ It’s ok to feel that way

It is. End of story. Tell people their feelings are valid. 

◦ Thank you. 

If you were never taught this, shame. But thank people more than you should. Appreciate every moment with people. Thank them for talking to you. Listening. Going on errands with you. Remembering you. Thinking of you. Being there when you felt like you were being extra or too much (me). Everyone remembers appreciation or the lack thereof. 

◦ I need you. 

People remember when they’re needed. They hear it over and over in their mind. It’s a great reminder that you’re important to them in their life. 

◦ I love you. 

Tell everyone you love that you love them.  Romantic love. Friend love. Family love. Puppy dog love. I am not good at this, but I’m learning. Although I do tell Aurora Sue every day.  I always feel like the most important person when I hear this. 

◦ I’m so happy to see you! 

◦ I’m so glad you’re here! 

Kids remember these two statements and internalize it. TELL THEM. The late kid? Tell them you’re so glad they’re at school. It’s not their fault they’re late. I wish you knew the faces of these kids when they hear these statements from the adults they love the most: their teachers. They light up like the Rockefeller Christmas tree friends. They really do. It’s a game changer. 

◦ I’m here for you 

I have a friend who always says this. It’s not someone I’ve known long. But it is the kindest thing I’ve heard from someone I’ve known a short time. This friend is very intuitive and knows when I need to hear it, and I remember it and how it made me feel seen. Doesn’t everyone want to feel seen?

◦ You are not a burden

I need to tell people this one more. As someone with more insecurities than I can count, this one hits home. 

◦ Imma pray for you

◦ Thoughts and prayers

These two are my nemesis. I respect that people think it’s helpful, but for me, tell me something concrete. I hear it and replay it as this: I’m not willing to do what you need, which is listen or bring them some Cheetos and a Coke Zero and let them unload for a second. Those are the helpful bits for me. The thoughts and prayers bit seems lazy. (Gasp!) Do something that is concrete. A handwritten note, a text that tells them you’re thinking of them, an affirmation that your feelings are valid, the Diet Coke, a big ol’ hug if they’re the hugging kind, the never forgetting the triggers: the death, the loss, the hardship. Send your love often. Never stop. 

What words replay in your head? Good things? Bad things? I know that I’m a work in progress in not being afraid to tell people what I really want them to know. It’s a goal of mine to do more and to not be afraid. 

Love you. I mean it. You’ve got this. You are a magical unicorn capable of anything you ever want to do. And this girl is your biggest hype person on the planet. Let me plant that seed friend. 💜💜