While I appreciate that you don't want to smell like a large puddle of body odour (I can appreciate that too) I have to tell you I don't appreciate the taste in my mouth as I breathe heavily from running alongside you...like I'm eating the scent of your very flowery perfume emanating from your very tiny, flawless, non-baby birthing hot pink short-shorts, barely there Lululemon tank top wearing body.
Deodorant works perfectly fine on its own, it really does. Secret, Dial, Dove. And, AND they have all these awesome scents that they certainly didn't have "when I was your age." (when did I start saying that??!!) Vanilla Bean, Cherry Blossom, Lemon Verbena...you almost might be tempted to lick your own armpit.
But please don't do that.
That would be really disgusting. Then your tongue would get a weird dry like feeling.
I have no idea how I know this but I do.
I promise you I've never licked my armpit though.
But I digress....
I used to have a body just like yours.
Oh yes. Believe it.
I see you glance over at me sizing me up in my loose fitting Adidas warm up pants and long sleeve no-name top when everyone around us including half the men are wearing black and bright coloured spandex with a Lululemon logo somewhere on it.
But I don't need to show off this body of mine that's "only" birthed two very large babies (just 9 and 9.6 lbs - no biggie), this very healthy but flawed body that's been very good to me so far...no, spandex this body will never see unless you count spanx. Besides, I actually LOVE to sweat. Long sleeved shirts and long pants encourage lots of sweating. Every bead of perspiration that runs down my reddened face that shows every single 33 years of my life, reminds me that I am, quite literally, working my butt off.
I once rocked tiny white cotton shorts too. And like you, I knew I looked pretty damn good.
Unfortunately now, shorts are out of the question. Period.
And this hair of mine? This long bedraggled hair that once curled so effortlessly but is now riddled with pokey uppy unreasonable grey hairs and must be styled if I want to look any kind of presentable...this mane hapharzardly piled atop my head resembling a nest or two for rodents that has not been cut or dyed since February? I'll have you know that I'm going tonight to have something drastic done about it.
By a professional.
That's right! I might even change my colour!
So, you and your gorgeous, dark, shiny long hair pulled perfectly into a pert ponytail will have nothing on me by 8 o'clock tonight.
You keep on jogging away, Miss flowery smelling skinny young thang.
Yeah. I was a lot like you.
I used to come to the gym when I was 19 too. For reasons very different than now. Along with how my priorities changed once I had my first son, my reasons for attending a gym on a regular basis have changed too.
Primarily, it's to get the only break I can from my wonderfully energetic spawn ... which is definitely not a bad thing for any one of us. I get some me time, they get to play and run around
It's a win-win.
But quite simply though most importantly, it's to keep healthy.
Because I want to live a good long life and really be there for my children.
And their children. (God please...I do want to be a grandmother someday! - just not too early if you know what I mean)
And if life is really, really good to me, my great-grandchildren too.
I want to be able to truly participate in their lives, give piggy backs, horsey rides, play airplane and all the soccer and hockey they wish to play with me...until they don't.
Not because I can't.
I also want to teach my boys that being fit and healthy is extremely important along with eating well and playing hard.
Yes, dear girl, when I was your age I used to attend the gym to get admiring sidelong glances from others, to show off (I still like to do this a little - for different reasons...did you see how much I can curl?! I got me some pipes yo...you'll get there too someday when you have to carry 30 plus pounds in each arm) and to keep my youthful hard body, hard.
Back then, it was all for vanity's sake.
But, all that living in vain? It doesn't really matter when you have a great husband and two little boys who at this point in their lives think I'm the most beautiful woman they know...yes, even in the mornings when I'm most definitely not at my most beautiful.
No, lovely 19 year old girl that I don't know, it doesn't matter one bit at the end of it all. And in about 10-15 years...I can assure you that it probably won't matter all that much to you either.
If, that is, you get as lucky as I did.
And that, Miss Flowers, I truly hope you do.
Someone who used to be just like you.
|Yeah - that's me. Rockin' the red.|