I thought more meant better. Stronger. Worthier.
It looked great on the outside. But inside? Something was quietly breaking…
I used to exercise a lot. Like, a lot—two-a-day cardio dance classes, hours at the gym. I had abs. I loved them. I loved the way my legs looked.
And then during COVID, I quit cold turkey. I would actually say I quit my addiction to exercise cold turkey.
Why addiction? Because I was doing it despite it having negative consequences on my life. My body hurt all the time. Every joint, every muscle. And yet, I kept going.
At one point, a functional medicine doctor looked at me and said, “Maybe you’re exercising too much. It’s like having a stove burning hot all the time—eventually, it cracks.”
That blew my mind. Because in my head, the fitter the better. The harder, the longer, the more disciplined—the better.
But I started to see it differently. My body was inflamed, exhausted, and in pain. I was good at ignoring it, as so many women are. We’re trained to tolerate pain—physical, emotional, logistical—and keep going.
When I finally stopped, I realized how much I had been overriding what my body was trying to tell me.
Since then, I’ve been rehabbing old injuries and finding new ways to move that don’t hurt. Recently, I took a class at FORWARD__Space, founded by the amazing Kristin Sudeikis. And during class, I had this cascade of thoughts.
The first was: women would be happier if they could move their hips more.
I looked around—mostly moms—and we were all trying to shake our booties but… we weren’t really shaking them. We were contained. Restrained. Held together.
We are always holding it together. And if we could just let go—it would feel so freeing. But when you’ve spent years gripping, controlling, being “good,” it’s hard to loosen that grip.
That’s why I love dancing. It’s movement without punishment. It’s not competitive, not about “feeling the burn.” It’s just movement for joy, expression, connection.
I’m in what I call my soft girl era—well, soft woman era. I don’t need to be hardcore anymore. I don’t need it to burn. I just want mobility and movement.
Because, let’s be real, I wake up and my knees hurt, my feet ache, I’m stiff. So now I move to keep my body feeling good, not to punish it.
Exercise, for me, is about freedom, flexibility, and longevity—and I don’t mean “biohacker longevity.” I mean, I want my body to work well for as long as possible. I want to surf, to play pickleball with my 82-year-old mom (who absolutely destroys me), to move through life with ease.
When I look back at my 20s and 30s, exercise was punishment. It was about fixing my body—making it smaller, stronger, thinner, more disciplined. It was about earning worthiness.
Now? I’m done with that.
Because punishing my body inflamed not just my muscles, but my soul. I don’t want that energy anymore.
Now, when I move, it’s about nourishment. I want to grease the joints, not pound them. I want movement that’s flexible, joyful, and kind.
That’s my goal—to never punish my body again. To let movement be joy, not judgment.
I’ll keep you posted on how it goes. But I’d love to know: how do you like to move? What makes you feel free in your body?
Thanks, as always, for being here with me. All my love.
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A weekly voicenote from me to you.
Sometimes deep, sometimes ridiculous, always human. Think of it like the kind of voicenote I’d leave my best friend—the messy, unfiltered version of me, saying the things we don’t usually say out loud. Now I’m sending them to you.
REAL TALK FOR REAL WOMEN