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The Best Shape of Your Life: A Letter to My Younger Self
Hey there, 18-year-old me,
I spotted a girl at the gym today who instantly reminded me of you. She strutted into class with her mom, glancing around at the not-so-toned older ladies preparing their light weights. I couldn’t help but notice her fit legs stretching at the front, clearly wanting everyone to see just how much more in shape she was than the rest of us. She grabbed the heaviest dumbbells with a smirk.
I recognized you right away, because you were just like her. You think that the way someone looks is the only true measure of fitness, and you see fuller figures as weak or disappointing. If you could see me now, you’d probably be horrified by the size of my thighs and would do anything to cover my upper arms. If you caught a glimpse of my reflection today, you’d drop your fork and commit to nothing but diet soda and low-fat yogurt.
But here’s the thing you don’t understand yet: my body, with its curves and soft spots, is a powerhouse. My thighs, which are fuller than yours, can carry an 8-year-old up a flight of stairs after they’ve dozed off in front of the TV. My arms, with their extra skin, can manage a wiggly toddler and four grocery bags all at once. My abs, hidden beneath a layer of skin, have done more than a hundred of your sit-ups ever could.
Sure, you might be faster on the track, but wait until you see who gets to the playground first when our kid falls off the swing. You can sprint without getting winded? That’s great, but I’m living my own marathon and still breathing just fine.
My daily life? It’s a workout in itself. I run up and down stairs a hundred times, pull a wagon filled with kids and beach gear up a hill, juggle laundry loads, lift kids to reach monkey bars, and even drag trash cans to the curb. Remember how Mom helped you pack for college? Well, now I’m moving my own boxes because waiting isn’t an option. When you’re carrying the weight of a family, a 10-pound dumbbell feels like nothing.
And let’s talk about sleep. Some days I run on five hours, waking up in the night to soothe a nightmare or a fever. When moms pull all-nighters, there’s no sleeping in until noon. The physical stamina needed for parenting is a breeze compared to the mental strength required to keep it all together.
Right now, you might zip through an obstacle course faster than me, but can you navigate the grocery store while dropping one kid off at soccer, taking another to the doctor, packing for a road trip, loading the car, taking care of the dog, and watering the garden—all while answering emails and being on a conference call? Probably not. You’re still figuring out how to get to class in something other than your pajamas.
You might have the muscles, but you’re still learning what real strength is. Moms push through fatigue, headaches, and chaos. You’ve changed your major three times in a semester, but I can’t drop this class—ever. It’s called resilience, and it’s the real deal that you won’t grasp for a couple more decades.
So go ahead, run your race with those skinny legs of yours and flaunt those perfect abs in your tiny bikini. Snap plenty of pictures because that swimsuit contest will come to an end sooner than you think. Keep training and growing, because one day you’ll have kids, and that’s when you’ll discover true strength—inside and out. You’ll wear bigger clothes and carry extra weight, and your skin may not be as firm as it is today, but you’ll finally be in the best shape of your real life.
XOXO,
The Amazing Older You