Hey KAAWWWEEEENS,
Let me just say, I wish high waistbands were a thing when I was in my 20s. Seriously, where were they? My confidence would’ve been sky-high on those “off” days, whether I was hitting the gym or just existing. Back then, my go-to workout "fashion" (and I use that term loosely) was iconic—if by iconic you mean those tragic old Glassons bootleg pants (which are now not so tragic because they essentially are back?!) or some hideous 3/8 tights with patterns that could only be described as offensive. Let’s just say they didn’t spark joy, and I was more than happy to Marie Kondo them out of my life.
Weights at the gym? Loved them. What I wore? Couldn’t tell you. But I do remember an ex once told me I had “rugby legs.” When i got back from a long 50 laps at the local pool. Rightfully, I had a good pump on my quads. Um, thanks, mate - is this you giving me a compliment or....? Well, I’m taking that as a compliment because, let’s face it, strong legs are sexy. Did I think that back then. NO i was self conscious and would overthink my legs for the next 97 years - a tad hyperbole, but you know what I mean. Was I right to feel that way. NO. Was this just a reality of the times - maybe and maybe still? It's all subjective.
And here’s a fun little throwback—double long singlets. Yep, I’d layer those bad boys for extra “support” in the midsection, basically inventing my own version of a high waistband before it was cool. Even then, I was always self-conscious about my weight. At 70 kilos. Seventy. WTAF?! And now? Add a decade and a half, and that’s my number. Yeah, I said it. (again all subjective - we feel how we feel no matter the number).
Let’s be real: Sometimes we can be curious what others numbers are, It’s like we’re searching for some kind of validation or solidarity. Like "Cool, I’m not alone - duh obviously with the other 15200021246541324 people". But I think it's more - "oh man she looks so good, maybe I look like that too when I wear those pants, because we similar" - it's like we are trying to see a person as a mirror in REAL TIME.” because we all know our minds play tricks on us, photos do, the mirror - that bloody mirror - can't you be consistent just for ONE day, and don't get me started on the reflection. Not only the mirror, the mental gymnastics of the scales —calculating, justifying, blaming shark week, questioning if cheese is the enemy, swearing off sugar, all while muttering, “I’ve been working out and eating my protein, WHY are you not moving......ohh its the water - thats what these wobbly bits are WaTEr. 
OR, hormones? Yeah, they’re doing whatever they want now because, apparently, that’s what happens at 40. The whole thing is exhausting, and honestly, a head fuck. And yet, there’s always that little voice inside telling me, “Girl, you’re fit as fuck, you look amazing, and OMG, have you seen your ass?” KeEp. tHe. ViBraTioNs. hiGh. KEEP THEM HIGH - YOU are amazing, OHH yeah. BOSS BEATCH.
So here’s the real talk: it’s time to unlearn this toxic mindset. (Which the pendulum is moving, slowly but surely - my pendulum). The weight? The number? It’s just that—a number. What truly matters is what you bring to the table from the inside. Your kindness, your grit, your badass energy. Escape those mental limitations and don’t let outdated beliefs keep you locked up.
You’ve got this. You’re killing it. And yeah, Queen, you’re strong as hell.
With love, water and hormones
LJ xo