Becoming Fit at 64

On the quest to achieve a 'great ass' when it's not a given

I was never a sporty kid. I was the surly teenager who used to walk around the running track, was the last to be picked for any sport, and generally went out of my way to avoid being active. The arts were my thing. Drama, singing, ‘oral interpretation’ (for which I won first prize)—any activity that involved performing, I was all in. My brothers were the sporty ones, but not me.

I was a fat, spotty teenager. I was never a beauty queen—I went to my school prom with a gay best friend in an outfit that my mother sewed for me because it was hard to find clothes that fit. I still have a picture of myself at 17, taken during prom night with (now deceased) Benny Benton, and, in many ways, I look older than I am now. My face was always covered with a layer of theatre make-up, thick as frosting on a cake, which was all I could find at the time that provided enough coverage. Giving incredibly bad blowjobs to earn validation with nerdy boys was what I did after I lost my virginity at seventeen.

It should perhaps then come as no surprise that in my late thirties, when my acne finally took a run for the hills like a retreating army, I decided it was time to get my shit together. I was married at this point, and the first Caesarean had delivered me into a place where I needed to strengthen my stomach muscles to avoid suffering from back problems down the line.

I was running a PR agency at the time and made a deal with a personal trainer called Anne-Marie—I’d help her promote her services if she’d help get me into shape. The deal worked for both of us, with Anne-Marie going on to write columns in various magazines, land a book deal, and, for the first time in my life, I became properly ‘fit,’ with a flat tummy, identifiable muscles. I’ve stayed fit pretty much ever since, bar COVID, when I had to train on my own and momentarily slipped.

Currently, I’m living in the Gran Canaries, where I’m lucky enough to have discovered a wonderful trainer, Nadine at Next Level, who puts me through an absolutely punishing workout three times a week, with the bonus of a weekly massage to provide some temporary relief. I’m currently working up to being able to do pull-ups, as I enjoy a challenge, and if I manage one in the next three months, I’ll be amazed. A pull-up, especially for a woman (of any age), is especially difficult because we don’t naturally have the upper body strength of men, but I’m determined to achieve one.