After a 10-pound weight-gain over Christmas break I’ve been forced to accept that the day I turn thirty is not going to be a day where I present myself to the world as the together, svelte, balanced person I thought I could mold myself into over my 29th year. Why does this arbitrary number hold so much power over me? I’m going to blame Jennifer Garner and her many repetitions of “Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving” in 13 Going on 30*.
There will be no transformation by thirty. I can accept that. Now to make a few adjustments in my life, mainly in relation to my diet and exercise program. I had been approaching things as a sprint, feeling like it was possible for me to finish by the magical 30th if i just pushed a little harder each day, and the past few weeks have been about accepting that isn’t going to happen. I need to scale back to something that feels sustainable for the long term.
This morning I told my trainer that I want at least one of my cardio days to be about hiking outside, not climbing on the stairmaster. If you follow me on Instagram you know that I’ve been talking a lot lately about my need for more pretty light and Vitamin D. I also told her that I want to have a glass of wine every night if I feel like it, and not feel like I’m cheating. She told me to have my wine and exceeded my expectations by saying I could throw in a piece of dark chocolate as well. Another change I’m going to make is legalizing eating like a normal person with other people. (And by normal I mean making choices that help me feel strong and nourished, etc etc) Previously I had one splurge meal allotted per week, and this sometimes had me shying away from social invitations because I didn’t want to deal with navigating the food while there. That’s stupid. I’m not going to do that anymore.
These changes are going to take my terribly slow progress and turn it into something that is agonizingly slow. TH assured me that 33 is a fantastic number as well. Or maybe 36. He made me tear up when he said that for him it’s all about seeing me work hard, no matter how long it takes me to get there. I really needed to hear that.
Onward and upward and forward and backward and maybe even sideways when things get hard. It’s all good as long as I’m doing something.
How did you feel when you were approaching thirty or forty or fifty or whatever age you figured would be “the big one”? Tweet with me, @jennacole, or leave your thoughts on the That Wife Facebook page.
*I just looked, and it’s on Netflix Streaming, FYI.
Also:
