I have decided tonight that my plan for turning 50 in seven months is simple. I’m going to get incredibly fit. (I’m not.) I’m picking now because all those other years when I was younger were too easy. (I was lazy then too.) I like a challenge. (I promise you, I don’t.) And I think, for the first time ever, this is within my reach. (Sometimes I reach for my phone charger cord and I almost fall out of bed.)

I think the plan is really less about getting fit and more about getting sinewy. (It’s a great word.) Like one of those women who finds fitness the way zealots find religion and her shoulders get so carved out it looks like she was whittled from a birch branch. I’ll probably be in my workout gear getting a cup of nitro brew in a local, fair trade trendy coffee place and women will whisper about me because they’ve never seen so many bones and muscles jutting out here and there. (I don’t know what nitro brew is and can’t drink caffeinated coffee because of my heart issues. Yeah, I’m old.) My newly sculpted rockin’ body will cause much talk of maybe a bad divorce or perhaps a meth addiction. (Don’t worry, it will still be “body by ice cream.”)

Look, I think this is going to happen. (LOL.) I mean, I’m in the prime of my life. (Sorry, I can’t stop laughing.) Right now I’ve never been physically stronger. (I often get sleep injuries™.) My body is literally unstoppable. (I was recently flat on my back for days with a lower back injury that made me contemplate how much longer I want to live.) All I need is a maybe a good motivational Insta account to inspire me daily. (Engaging with a perky workout personality type is my personal hell.) Or I could get a personal trainer. (I already can’t stand making small talk with this person.)

I promise you, and myself, that this time is different. (Sh, sweetie, you know it’s not.) That, at 49, soon to be 50, it’s now or never. (I love never.) That I’m not going to enter my 50s beaten by life and powerless to change myself. (Really, I’m fine with it.) I’m going to show the world who I really am. (Umm, the world doesn’t really care, and who I am is a person who is not sinewy.) This starts now. (It’s 9:21pm and I’m in bed…”now” is a low value proposition.)

And while I’m at it, (I’m at nothing, by the way), I’m going to start to eat healthier. (I just ate a salad and my stomach hurts and I’m pretty sure I have E. coli poisoning.) I’m going to stop eating chips everyday. (There’s no way I will ever stop eating chips.) All I really have to do is stop eating butter and desserts. (I’ll probably eat a butter cake tomorrow even though that’s not even really a thing.) You know what? I’m going all in and I’m going to get a juicer. ($150. I use it once. Realize it’s a bitch to clean. Never use it again.)

The more I think about this next seven months before I turn 50, the more I am absolutely certain I can have the kind of healthy body that store mannequins have. (Remember that movie where a mannequin came to life?) I think this is realistic because all evidence of who I am points to me committing to an exercise regime over watching Netflix. (Zero evidence points to that.) Besides, it’s scientifically proven that women turning 50 can do anything they put their minds to. (This might actually be true.)

All I know is there is no way that I spend the next 50 years of my life wanting to get super fit and not making it happen. (I assure you, that is exactly what is going to happen.) I am not going to buy Yoga Burn videos and not use them. (Only because I’ve already done that.) I’m not going to buy cellulite cream that heats up on my thighs. (I’ve already done that too.) No way. I am going to do this old school. (“Old”is the only true word I have written.) I’m going to eat right. (If dipping chocolate into peanut butter is wrong, I don’t want to be right.) I’m going to prioritize my workouts above everything. (That still doesn’t mean I’m going to workout.)

You see, all you need to do to before a big birthday is obsess about all your flaws and ignore who you are completely to achieve something really special. (You know what’s special? Chocolate Mousse.) You can be sinewy (Maybe you can, but I can’t.) You can eat healthier. (For like a meal or two but never four in a row.) You can be better than you are now. (Nah, you’re freaking fine.)

 So, in summary, what have we learned about my big birthday coming up in August? Seven months will go by. That is all that will happen.


  1. Kris on February 12, 2020 at 9:46 am

    I’m turning 50 in August as well! Taking a Farewell 40s trip with my college roommates before we all have the big one this year…so we can eat, drink and be merry!

    • Kris on February 12, 2020 at 9:47 am

      OH…and of course use the fabulous workout facility at the resort (NOT!)

    • M. on February 12, 2020 at 9:52 pm

      That’s fantastic. I just did a trip with a college friend in Cabo. I swear to you, I never laughed so hard in my life. What a great frickin time. Have the best trip!!!!!! Thanks for commenting.

  2. Chris on February 4, 2020 at 2:11 pm

    How the F did you get in my skull (in my non-sinewy, sleep injured body)? Oh. . .and butter cake is definitely a thing. For real. And some places will give it to you free on your birthday in 7 months.

    • M. on February 12, 2020 at 9:54 pm

      hahahaha! I need butter cake immediately!!! xoxox

  3. Louise MT on February 4, 2020 at 12:50 pm

    3 months to go until I’m 50. Your post was (sort of) reassuring and even companionable. Thankyou!

  4. Jon on February 4, 2020 at 12:10 am

    Kinda just did this… ?

  5. BethAnn on February 3, 2020 at 7:58 pm

    Ha…me too! I turn 50 in January 2021. So, I have a few more months to get in shape (not).

    • M. on February 12, 2020 at 9:55 pm

      I believe in you (I believe in you staying just the way you are.) Happy B-day, 11 months early.