I’m so done with obsessing about my weight. I’m tired of thinking about how I look all the damn time. I’m exhausted from being embarrassed about how my body has changed. I’m fifty-fucking-one, not 31. I have to stop this.
I know I’m not alone. I had a friend say to me recently, “It’s just really hard looking different than I’m used to seeing myself.” For the record, this person is one of the most beautiful people I know—both inside and out. However, I understand exactly what she was saying. I feel the same every day. This shit is hard.
I have been fairly thin my whole life. This is not because I was blessed with fantastic genes. It is because I eat healthy and I have always exercised. I still do both of those things, but my body has changed. It sucks. I’m seriously struggling with it. I don’t know how to stop the negative self-talk. If someone said to me the stuff I say to myself, I would throat punch them. Yet, here we are.
Just last week I was having a conversation with one of my doctors who runs half marathons. She is just a few years older than me and we were commiserating about weight gain. She said to me, “You can’t exercise away menopause.” That is the damn truth. Fuck menopause. I can’t work out any more than I do. I follow the CDC guidelines for exercise. And, so help me God, I can’t eat any more damn lentils…and I love lentils!
On another food note, do not come at me about carbs. I will NOT give up carbs. It’s not healthy and that is no way to live. Oh, and wine is also not going anywhere. It’s called quality of life, people!
I was listening to an old interview with the brilliant and gorgeous Tina Fey the other day. She talked about how she could only be filmed from the waist up because she was “of a certain age.” What!? She is a beautiful queen! Apparently, Meno Belly gets us all at some point—even the great Tina Fey.
This is a real problem—one only faced by women. Men get sexier. Women get old. It inspires me to see women embrace aging, but I don’t feel the same joy in getting old they claim to have. It bums me the fuck out. My back hurts, my hair is gray and my feet are swollen. Where is the good time and liberation in all of that bullshit? Nevertheless, I persist.
I don’t know the answer to any of this crap. I have good days and bad. I try to look at myself with love. I try to think of Brandi Carlile and her wise words, “all of these lines upon my face, tell you the story of who I am.” My less-than-flat stomach also has a story to tell. It’s seen some shit.
Be kind to yourself, ladies. Our bodies have seen and done a lot of stuff. They are miracles and so are we. We need to love it all—forever, not just at 21.
Angela Traver
What is this blog about? Well, it's a general blog, but it is also a very specific blog. If you get that reference, you get a gold star! I have been a public relations professional and writer of press releases for more than 20 years—primarily in the booze biz. I decided to do some writing for fun and embrace the humor that gets me through most days. Hopefully it will make you chuckle—or at least smile. I’m a certified crazy magnet, and more than a little nutty myself, so buckle up. Also, I have two vices—profanity and red wine/whiskey. You’ve been warned. It should also be noted, that I’m a HUGE Bob & Sheri fan. I’ve been a listener for more than 20 years. This opportunity is a dream come true and it may have made me cry. That being said, I cry at everything. If you are into booze, dogs, food and/or knitting, hit me up on Instagram, Facebook or Twitter (although I’m terrible at Twitter and it scares me) @kyspiritsgal. You can also find all my previous blog posts at www.kyspiritsgal.com.
