Get Off Your Tush and Lead With Your Bush

Consider this fool-proof training regimen to start feeling like a woman again

I run a lot. In my twenties and thirties, it was marathons. With no extra funds for therapists or career coaches, I used the time and distance to mend heartbreak and unpack professional angst.

In my forties (I’m currently 49, for the second time, because no one should have to turn 50 during a pandemic) my body can still climb mountains and jog down roads, though the distances are now shorter and mostly an escape from the constant refrain of needy children and an inexhaustible to-do list.

But being a runner remains an integral part of my identity as a woman, and the yardstick by which I measure my ability to train for and achieve many of my goals.

There are only a handful of things you need to do to train for a marathon. Such is the case for most things in life. As humans, we tend to overcomplicate and fabricate obstacles. Not enough hours in the day, substandard equipment, family obligations, et cetera. The list of excuses can run as long as the distance to the front door. Regardless, the steps needed to achieve any goal remain the same.

First, you must establish a plan, a timeframe, and set benchmarks. It’s difficult to hold yourself accountable if you don’t know exactly what is expected of you and where the finish line is. Plus, crossing days off a training schedule feels fantastic.

Second, you must reserve some days for pushing yourself hard, and other days for rest. It’s impossible to go one hundred percent all of the time.

Finally, you need to share with at least one person that you are in training for a marathon, learning the viola, or trying to drink more water and less wine. Tell your book club, broadcast it on Instagram; there’s no one correct person or place — to quote Nike, Just Do It. Research shows (I think) that the chances of attaining a goal increase exponentially when you put it out into the universe, even if the universe is only your mother.

So, in the spirit of sharing goals, I’d like to submit one today: After a full year off, I’m training to feel like a woman again. Consider me your average, middle-age mother weathering a pandemic while trying to add some femininity back into her life. Essentially, I’d like to get off my tush and lead with my bush. Okay, kinda crass, but you understand the sentiment.

I estimate it will take me two to three months, more or less, to return to the behavior that used to be habitual. My hope is to peak around the time I will be called up for the vaccine. Then I can withstand public scrutiny, and dine indoors or host a meeting at a coffee shop without embarrassing myself by forgetting to shower.

Yes, it’s true, I’m dragging my pandemic-ponytailed, hoodie-clad, bare-faced, slippered, 5-foot-9-inch body out of this current asexual purgatory.

Before you get your panties in a bunch (we are still wearing those right?) I’m not looking to haul womanhood back a half century and define myself solely by my appearance. And I’m certainly not slipping into Spanx anytime soon. What I am saying is that, regarding the multiple facets that coalesce into full-fledged badass womanhood, some are thriving right now, and some are dying a slow death on my sectional.

After a full year off, I’m training to feel like a woman again.

After watching multiple interviews with Stacy Abrams over the past several months, I have been awed by her fortitude in registering hundreds of thousands of new voters to turn Georgia blue and deftly pairing her jewelry, blouse, and blazer.

I need that to be me again, but it won’t happen overnight; I’m too out of shape. So here I go: Check out my training schedule. It’s all about incremental progress. Just like in running, where my mileage and output increase week over week, so does my womanhood. One wouldn’t go out and run a full 26.2 miles after the first day of training, so why would I start with hair, makeup, and wardrobe all on the first day? I’m only going to the grocery store.

The Training Regimen:

Note the five-days-on, two-days-off schedule. I don’t want to burn out and I can’t be expected to do laundry or watch HBO Max in a pencil skirt and eye liner. On days off, the only requirements are washing my face and brushing my teeth because I have been doing that consistently since the second grade.

This may all sound very tongue-in-cheek, but it’s no joke. If there’s one truth in life, it’s that mood follows action. If I actively dry my hair rather than pile it into a damp messy bun, put on clothes that require hangers, and come face to face with myself in the mirror as I add a touch of mascara to my lashes, I will begin to see myself for the fabulous woman I am. The woman who has been the anchor in her family throughout this pandemic. The woman who — while moonlighting as a fourth- and seventh-grade teacher, therapist, laundress and short-order cook — has managed to write a second novel, organize a move, be a daughter, still love my husband and remain a runner — always a runner.

That’s the woman I want to see in the mirror as I dash on some lipstick. I might even give her a wink.

Alli Frank is the co-author with Asha Youmans of Tiny Imperfections, upcoming There Are No Calories in Grief Pie, out 2022, and is a contributing essayist to Zibby Owen’s Moms Don’t Have Time To: A Quarantine Anthology.