“Aging”

Yesterday I had a lady date with my nursing school bestie, Erin. It’s kind of a tradition we started once we didn’t see each other every waking moment of nursing school after she moved back from Cali.

These dates aren’t always the same. Sometimes we just meet for lunch and sometimes it’s also exercise or fun activity. We even reprise our post-exam tradition of cheesy fries and wing sauce at Josie Woods Pub every now and then. At times her hubby is invited and at other times he is not (even though we are both major fans of him).

For this last one, we tried a gym called Switch Playground. It’s club atmosphere and a circuit training course all rolled into one package. It was actually quite fun! We worked hard and had fun. There may have been one or two tears… or eyeball sweat, who knows which one?

During this manic disco workout-fest, I had a fun and quite deep realization that we discussed at length after class at our delicious post-workout lunch. This gym was covered in mirrors. These mirrors are probably twofold in their design: 1. to check on your form, and 2. to check out your hot bod. I’ll let you decide which one is more important.

As I looked at myself in the mirror, I thought, “Wow, I look different.” Not in a bad way, mind you. For the majority of my life, I’ve been a young, tiny dancer. As I near the age of 35, I realize that I am not that 110 pound ingénue that I usually imagine myself to be. I look older, but I am not really upset about it. *cut scene to women everywhere looking shocked and appalled* It’s not just in my face either. I have more frame, and because of my workout regimen, I have more muscle than I used to. I weigh more. These are all thoughts that sounds bad, but really, this is the course my life is taking, and I choose to see this as beautiful. I love being in my skin. It’s mine. This body has been thrown about in this lifetime from doing the can can in character shoes outside on the concrete to my choreographer trying to move my shoulders against the natural grain to obstacle courses and a marathon to being a bedside nurse.

The “aging” on my body is beautiful and it’s mine. This morning, I went to a ballet class. Mind you, when I was younger, I would take multiple dance classes a day and then go to rehearsal. Nowadays, my body yells back at me. Today kicked my butt in all the best ways. There is nothing quite like a ballet barre to remind you about those muscles you tend to ignore in other workouts. I am feeling grateful that 20 years later, I can still hold my own in ballet class with a grin so wide that I am unable to keep it in.

The other day, a younger nurse told me she was turning 30 and an even younger nurse exclaimed, “Thirty! Whoa!” Listen, I loved my teen, I loved my twenties and I am currently loving my thirties. Sure I am aging, but it’s wonderful and lovely and I’m gonna keep it up until it’s my time for the curtain calls to end.