In my quest to go from fat to….well….less fat I have been trialling a number of different exercise classes. I frequent one the most because it is cheap and cheerful. (Just to emphasize that point, it is run by a group of super young mums and they are super cheerful. God love them, they are awesome, but even a hundred years ago when I was their age, I don’t remember being half as perky and smiley as them. But then again, I am 40(ish) now so my memory may be failing me).
At the end of today’s class, the instructor reminded us that even though it still feels cold, Summer is on its way, and we really need to keep exercising so we can have abs for Summer. “Because we all want abs, right?” she stated (super cheerfully) as if it were a rhetorical question.
As I looked around me at the other young mums nodding enthusiastically I was perplexed. I realized that perhaps they are just too young for me to feel an affinity with them as part of my tribe. Or maybe they simply don’t like Tim Tams as much as I do. But when I glanced over to my exercise partner in crime (who most definitely is of my tribe) and saw her looking skeptical, I knew she was having similar thoughts to me. The commentary in my head went something like this:
“No Susan. I honestly couldn’t give a fuck about having abs for Summer. I mean, if God was handing them out like Smarties I certainly wouldn’t refuse, but abs are so far down on my list of things that I care about, it’s just not funny. There are so many things on that list of wants before abs. Things that I genuinely consider to be a million times more important than a few sticky out muscles showing the definition of my stomach. For example:
I want to be able to give my exercise partner a magic wand to take away the pain and grief she is suffering over the death of her mum; to be able to put some of the colour back into her world as I know that several months on, she is still trudging through shades of grey. I want to do that for so many of my friends, as we seem to be “at that age” now where we are losing our parents and it just fucking sucks.
At the same time, I want to embrace others in my tribe, some of them so incredibly close to me, and take away their struggles with fertility and trying to conceive because apparently, we are “at that age” now when it all becomes more difficult.
Honestly, this circle of life thing shouldn’t be so fucking hard or feel so unfair.
I want my kids to be happy at school.
I want them to be able to convey that happiness to me on the way home from school. But quite often they don’t, because apparently they are “at that age” now where it is easier to simply grunt.
I want to follow up that after school happiness with a restful evening where I don’t have to race around in the car, travelling 3,000 fucking miles just ferrying everyone to 5 million sports trainings and activities.
I want to then sit down to a lovely, healthy family dinner which everyone eats without any complaints or faux vomiting noises or tantrums.
Oh God, I want so many things.
I really want to wake up in the morning and not feel so completely overwhelmed at all of the items on the list of things that NEED to be done, that I rarely ever get to turn the page to even glance at the list of wants.
So no Susan, everyone DOES NOT want abs for Summer.
Besides, I passed Year 12 Biology (on the second attempt, but nevertheless, a pass is a pass) and I know that we all have abs. I affectionately call mine “flabs” because they are conveniently hidden under several layers of fatty tissue, but that doesn’t mean they are non-existent.
Ultimately, I think what I really want is to go back in time to a place where “wanting abs” was a perfectly legitimate wish and an attainable thing to strive for. A time when life was a little less complicated. And I wish this for Susan too. That she doesn’t turn 30 or, you know, 40ish, and stumble head on into a world of cray cray commitments and heartache and day to day bullshit. I want her to keep wanting abs. And keep believing that everyone else does too.
Oh and next week? I’m going to bring Susan some Tim Tams.
#Susan is not her real name
#I don’t know her name
#Apologies to all the Susans I have just offended
#Not a sponsored post
#Need 1,000 followers to gain advertiser’s attention for sponsored posts
#Share the blog with your friends to get more followers so we can all get free Tim Tams
#Have I told you how much I hate hash tags
#Using hash tags makes me feel like a pretentious wanker
#Can’t bring myself to leave out the spaces between words because
#Summer bodies are made in Winter
#Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels
#Except Tim Tams
#Blessed with flabs