It’s giving growth. It’s giving boundaries. It’s giving “Don’t talk to me unless it’s about protein or peace.”
Somewhere between trying to feed a toddler who believes toast is offensive and a teen who treats me like an unpaid Uber driver, I became her.
The woman with a skincare routine, a lifting schedule, a full water bottle, and no time for nonsense.
I’m 38.
I’m in my unbothered era.
And no, it’s not quiet or peaceful—but I am powerful in it.
☀️ Skincare at 35: From Chaos to Ritual
I used to fall asleep with mascara flakes on my cheeks and a vague sense of defeat.
Now? I cannot sleep—literally cannot— until I get up and wash my face.
I’ve become accountable to myself in the most unexpected way.
Skincare isn’t optional anymore.
It’s sacred. It’s sanity. It’s the one thing I do at night that feels like a promise kept.
And if you’re almost 40, standing in your bathroom wondering where to even begin—I got you.
I’ll be sharing my full skincare routine in a separate post soon, including the products that actually made a difference to me and the ones I broke up with faster than my high school boyfriend. ( no, that is a lie, my high school boyfriend dragged for centuries) But you know what I mean.
🏋️♀️ My One-Hour Lifting Session? Non-Negotiable.
Some people meditate.
I lift—as heavy as possible—while making eye contact with my demons.
That one hour in the gym? It’s sacred. Non-refundable.
Unless you’re actively bleeding or on fire, I will speak to you when I am done—and not a minute sooner.
I lift:
- To quiet the noise in my head.
- To feel strong when life (and toddlers) try to break me.
- Because hitting 40 in my best shape isn’t about aesthetics—it’s about survival, mental clarity, and spite.
This isn’t my “escape.” This is my anchor.
It’s the only place where no one’s asking me to find their socks or cut their grapes in fourths.
Even my kids know: when Mom’s lifting, she is spiritually unavailable.
But more than that—this is about how I feel when I walk back upstairs (basement gym girly here).
Sweaty. Sore. Recalibrated.
Like I could carry a toddler, a backpack, and every bad decision I’ve ever made—up a hill. Backwards. In Crocs.
On a side note, here is my🧃 Favorite protein powder 🔗 Read my post about it HERE and my go to Creatine 💪 Clean, bloat-free creatine: 🔗 Read my post about it HERE.
👩👧👦 Motherhood in Two Speeds: Toddler Chaos & Teen Diplomacy
Life with a toddler and a teen is a test of patience, strategy, and emotional agility.
If you’ve ever tried to potty train a toddler while negotiating screen time with a teenager, you know what I’m dealing with.
Motherhood after 35 is wild. It’s beautiful. It’s loud.
And no, I don’t always love it. But I always love them. Even when they’re both crying for different reasons and I’m hiding in the pantry with my sugar-less chocolate bar and my crime junkie podcast.
I’m raising kids, sure. But I’m also raising myself.
Every time I say no without guilt? Growth.
Every time I skip the office drama and go lift instead? Healing.
Every time I choose peace over perfection? That’s the soft life movement in action.
🌱 The Glow-Up Is Real—and Internal
I didn’t peak in my 20s. I didn’t figure it all out at 30.
But at 38? I’m thriving—on purpose.
I bloomed when I had laugh lines and hamstring tightness.
This version of me is calmer, clearer, stronger, and—shockingly—not tired of her own BS anymore.
This version of me:
- Doesn’t explain herself anymore. Not in group chats, not in life.
- Tracks macros and boundaries.
- Knows the difference between hyaluronic acid and glycolic acid.
- Protects peace like it’s my one good moisturizer.
My goals aren’t aesthetic. They’re mental armor.
The woman I’m becoming at 40? She’s focused. Fierce. And deeply hydrated.
So yeah—I’m 38.
I’m not peaking—I’m just finally showing up.
With stronger glutes, better moisturizer, clearer boundaries, and an entire gym playlist built on rage and rebirth.
Unbothered. Unapologetic. Unstoppable.
