No sweat!
Well, maybe a little…
hhh exercise. What a confusing/satisfying/love/hate/futile relationship I have with you. Some days you make me feel like Serena Williams, others Homer Simpson… I’ve read, listened, watched, tried, tested, spent, sweated and burpeed myself into oblivion. Planking until my face turns puce and then swiftly saying fuck this and giving up for a few days, only to sheepishly return because it turns out sitting on my ass makes me feel exactly like one.
The thing is, PMOS and moving certainly do go together very well indeed. It’s a love affair, but it’s complicated. Why? Because ~ SHOCK EMOJI ~ our bodies do things differently. So if that 6am F45 class (no shade, congrats to you all) makes you want to vomit at the bus stop outside afterwards or you seize up like a pretzel after pilates then, well, same.
The PMOS Predicament honestly began as a place for us all to gather together for a bit of a moan on days like that. Somewhere where you can read about my shortcomings to make you feel less alone about yours. We’re constantly force-fed information, advice, trends, hacks, plans and washboard abs and I for one don’t find it particularly inspirational. Some days I can hardly stomach getting out of bed at all, let alone hitting the gym. But rewind a few years (back to that beautiful summer of 2018 when I was still in my 20s and there was that orange bikini and I fitted it perfectly and ahh aperol and, sorry… drifted off there) and I look back at my incessant exercising with a touch of concern.
After being guided helpfully by just about no-one in the early days I, once more, took matters into my own hands, did a quick bit of research, something something exercise, and immediately gave Nike all my money. In a nutshell, what followed were some hard changes, a lot of early mornings and discipline, some brilliant results, and then… oh, a borderline obsession. I found myself constantly thinking about how to fit exercise into my already very busy life. Was I doing enough? Was I doing the right type? Would I go up a dress size overnight if I missed a Power Pump class? I genuinely thought so, and it makes me sad to think about that. I would literally force myself to hit 5k while running, even if my tampon was slowly dislodging itself, slowly attempting an escape into my (lovely, shiny, new) Nike trainers. I’d wake up and pack FOUR outfits in the morning for 1) 6am gym 2) 50 min cycle to work 3) full work day 4) after work activity, and I wouldn’t bat an eyelid at how much I was pushing my body. People talk about burn-out from so many factors of our insane modern lifestyles, but I only understood what that really meant when I finally just… sat down?
Nowadays, after some big bouts of stress and everything that comes with that for us PMOS patients, I’m able to see how dangerous that lifestyle was becoming to me. I might’ve had baby abs, yes, but I was SO FREAKIN TIRED ALL THE TIME and my feet hurt and I had to wash so many pairs of pants. I dread to think what that was doing to my hormonal (im)balance, but ironically I was completely convinced I had ‘cured’ my PMOS, because I briefly read that exercise was important.
Today, I listen. To my legs, my heart, my mind, my tampon. Like a tuning fork I zone into myself every single day and attune my exercise schedule (or lack of, as the case often may be) to MYSELF. If I’m feeling down, I’ll go for a stroll and stare into middle distance and cry at an innocent baby moorhen in the park, jealous they will never know what calisthenics means. If I’m feeling spritely I’ll go for a jog (I refuse to say run because I resemble a 1996 Ford Mondeo with four flat tyres when I do that). If I’m feeling angry I’ll pick an argument with my boyfriend about the mayonnaise lid go to the gym and competitively lift weights with the poor unknowing man who just so happens to be standing next to me. If I’m feeling reflective, I’ll go to yoga.
But crucially, if I’m feeling like I don’t want to do a thing, well, simply put, I won’t.