Dear 18-Year-Old Me,
Today at the gym, I spotted a girl who reminded me of you. She strutted into class with her mom, casting judgmental glances at the older ladies preparing their lightweight weights. I saw her toned legs stretching at the front, clearly intent on showcasing how much fitter she was than the rest of us “old hags.” She confidently picked the heaviest dumbbells, and I couldn’t help but think of you.
You would have loved her, wouldn’t you? You believe that body shape is the ultimate measure of fitness and that fuller figures are weak and disappointing. If you could see me now, you’d probably gasp at the size of my thighs and rush to cover my arms with sleeves. If you caught a glimpse of my reflection, I can picture you dropping your fork in horror, swearing off anything but diet soda and low-fat yogurt.
But what you don’t understand is the strength that lies beneath my curves. One day you’ll realize that my dimpled thighs can conquer a flight of stairs while carrying a sleepy 8-year-old who dozed off on the couch. My arms, adorned with extra skin, are capable of wrangling a squirming toddler and hauling four grocery bags across a parking lot. And those abs you lament over? They have accomplished more in one day than a hundred of your sit-ups ever could.
Sure, you may be faster on the track, but when our kid tumbles off the swing, watch who reaches the playground first. You can sprint without losing breath? Fantastic! But I’m running a marathon of life and managing just fine.
My day-to-day involves dashing up and down the stairs countless times, pulling a wagon brimming with kids and snacks to the pool, lugging laundry, lifting little ones to reach the monkey bars, and dragging trash cans to the curb—all while juggling endless tasks. Remember how Mom helped you lug boxes for college, and Dad carried your heavy stuff to your dorm? Well, now I’m doing all of that solo because there’s no time to wait for assistance. When you’re carrying your family on your back, those 10-pound dumbbells seem like a feather.
And let’s not forget those nights when I get only five hours of sleep, thanks to a toddler’s bad dreams or a fever. When moms pull all-nighters, we don’t get to sleep until noon the next day. The physical fitness of parenting pales in comparison to the mental stamina needed to survive it.
You might navigate an obstacle course with ease, but can you zip through the grocery store while dashing to drop off one kid at soccer practice, taking another to the doctor, packing for a road trip, loading the car, wrangling the dog, and watering the garden—all while managing emails and conference calls? I didn’t think so! Your coordination probably stops at making it to class in anything other than PJs.
You can race, but can you endure? You might have those chiseled muscles, but you’re still missing the true strength. Moms push through exhaustion, headaches, and mental overload. You may have changed your major three times in one semester, but I can’t drop this class—ever. It’s called fortitude, my younger self, and it’s what remains when all pretenses fall away. Unfortunately, it’ll take you a couple of decades to truly grasp that.
So enjoy your athletic frame and flaunt those perfect abs in your tiny bikini. Snap plenty of photos because that swimsuit contest isn’t going to last forever. Keep training and growing because soon you’ll experience what it means to be genuinely strong—inside and out. Yes, you’ll wear bigger clothes and carry extra weight, and your skin won’t be as smooth or firm as it is today, but you’ll finally discover what it means to be in the best shape of your real life.
With love,
The Fabulous Older You