Today I’m bemoaning my current state of fatness. I was looking at pictures of myself when I was first married (always a mistake after you have kids) and remembering my body then. I was a hot little Miata convertible. I could do so much. I could run and hop and do cartwheels. I can still do all that stuff but I’m in the bathtub soaking sore muscles for hours after and then maybe a little icy hot before bed.
I’m done being a Miata. The other day I told someone that I wanted my 17-year-old body back and she said, “It’s never going to happen.” I realize she wasn’t saying that I’m never going to be healthy again. She was saying that our bodies change. It still depressed me a bit.
I have traded in the Miata for a minivan and there’s not a whole lot I can do about it. I can unload the trunk to get better mileage. I can take it through the car wash and make sure it’s shiny but… it’s still a soccer mom vehicle and that’s just how it is.