A bunch of the ladies in my neighborhood went out this weekend and did one of those Tough Mudder 5K obstacle course things. You know, you run, then you climb over walls and crawl under barbed wire in mud and then you run some more? One of those. I think it goes without saying that I wasn’t one of those ladies, but when they got home I was barraged with “YOU CAN TOTALLY DO THIS, SARAH!” text messages and pictures on Facebook of all 0f my super muddy friends.
I have to admit, it looks like they had a really good time.
At this juncture I am not ready to commit nor decline their not-at-all-subtle invitations, but I do want to talk about the fact that most of my friends are now in their forties. The women that participated in this race are in good shape (I guess, obviously, if they can climb ropes and rock walls). I don’t think I can do these things, but they were still discouraged by the younger women competing against them.
My neighbor, who was feeling great about finishing the race was telling me how fun it was when she lamented about the twentysomething women that were there. “They had flat stomachs and shorty shorts and muscles. I told Kathy, ‘We looked like that when we were 25 too!’”
Well, I never really had any abs to speak of and now that I have birthed twins I think my only shot at a flat stomach involves reconstructive surgery, but I will not let that bring me down.
“You look good now.” I said.
“Sarah,” my neighbors said. “You should have seen this girl’s butt.”
“Lesley,” I said “She probably has a really small apartment, a shitty car and crabs.”
Because I might be 39 and I might have stretch marks and a mom butt but I have a lovely home and a working vehicle and you have to hold on to something, right?