Things I Wish I Knew at 25 (So 37 Didn’t Feel Like This)
If you’re a man reading this… I’m going to save you some time.
This one isn’t for you.
Unless you’re raising daughters. Or if you’re married to a 37-year-old woman and slightly confused lately… this is probably for you too.
Somewhere between 34 and 37, I started to feel… different. Nothing drastic—just enough to make me question every decision I made between 18 and 30… and finally realizing it all caught up.
At 23, I could eat whatever I wanted. Skip meals. Crush a workout here and there. Have a drink (or three), wake up, move on like nothing happened. I didn’t think twice about protein, fiber, blood sugar, or hormones. Food was just food. Exercise was optional. And honestly, I got away with it.
Until I didn’t.
Now? It’s like my body keeps receipts.
The sugar cravings that feel impossible to ignore. The need for something sweet after every meal. The way a couple drinks hit harder, linger longer, and leave me feeling off for days instead of hours. The energy dips. The mood swings. The “why do I feel like a completely different person this week?” moments.
And let’s talk about hormones—because wow.
One week I feel strong, clear, motivated. The next? Headaches, sore boobs, bloating, a short fuse, zero patience. Then it all resets and I think, “Okay, I’m back.” And just when I start to feel normal again… it’s gone.
For a long time, I thought something was wrong with me.
But here’s what I’ve learned (and no, I’m not a doctor—but I’ve spent years living this and coaching women going through the exact same thing):
Nothing is random.
This is what happens when years of inconsistent nutrition, high stress, under-eating protein, over-relying on sugar and quick energy, and ignoring recovery finally meet a body that’s a lot less forgiving than it used to be.
In your 20s, you can get away with a lot.
In your late 30s, your body responds to everything.
What I didn’t understand is that as hormones start to shift, your body becomes a lot more sensitive to how you’re eating, how often you’re eating, how much protein you’re getting, and how much stress you’re under. The things I could ignore in my 20s—skipping meals, living off quick carbs, running on caffeine—don’t just “not work” anymore… they backfire.
And honestly, that’s where it gets frustrating—because it’s not like we don’t know what to do.
If anything, we know too much. We’ve read the posts, saved the workouts, pinned the recipes. But knowing and actually doing it consistently are two completely different things when you’re juggling work, kids, schedules, and about a hundred decisions before noon.
By the time evening rolls around, it’s not a discipline problem. I’m just tapped out. And that’s exactly when the “easy” choices start to win.
I didn’t realize how much that mattered.
I also didn’t realize how much my body would change even if the scale didn’t skyrocket. Things just… shifted. Less muscle, more softness, clothes fitting a little different, and suddenly I actually have to be intentional to get results I used to get without thinking.
And sleep? Also not the same. Not terrible, just inconsistent enough to make everything feel a little harder—cravings, patience, energy, all of it.
Then there’s the stuff I used to rely on to “fix it.”
Eat less. Cut carbs. Do more cardio. Push harder for a week and expect it to even out.
That doesn’t work anymore. If anything, it makes everything worse.
Here’s what I wish I understood earlier:
I wish I knew that protein wasn’t just for people trying to “bulk.” It’s what stabilizes your blood sugar, keeps you full, supports muscle, and helps control those relentless cravings.
I wish I understood fiber—not just as something you hear about on a cereal box—but as something that actually supports digestion, helps your body process hormones, and keeps things moving the way they should.
I wish I realized that skipping meals or “being good all day” only to spiral at night wasn’t discipline—it was predictable.
I wish I knew that alcohol wasn’t just empty calories, but something that directly impacts sleep, recovery, and how I feel for days after—not just the next morning.
And I really wish I understood that consistency—not perfection, not intensity—is what actually makes any of this work.
I saw something the other day that stuck with me. It was a row of cups, all filled to the exact same level. The caption said, “what we think consistency is.” Underneath it was another row of cups—some full, some half, some barely filled at all—and it said, “what consistency really is.”
That hit.
Because not every day looks the same. Some days I’m up early, in my home gym, lifting heavier, feeling strong. Other days it’s a quick workout squeezed in between everything else, or a walk just to get something in.
Some days I’m on point with meals—protein, vegetables, actually planning ahead. Other days it’s more thrown together, but I still make a better choice than I used to. Maybe it’s slicing up a pear after dinner instead of grabbing a brownie, or choosing something simple at home instead of defaulting to whatever’s easiest out.
None of it is perfect. Some days feel easy. A lot of days don’t.
But that’s the part I didn’t understand when I was younger. I thought consistency meant doing everything right, every day.
It doesn’t.
It’s showing up anyway, even when it’s inconvenient, even when you’re tired, even when the better choice takes more effort than the easier one.
And yeah… it’s hard. Most days, it’s the harder choice.
But that’s also exactly why it works.
If I could go back, I wouldn’t overhaul everything. I’d just start with eating enough protein, adding fiber, and building some kind of structure into my day—and let that compound over time.
Because now I’m raising teenagers. Boys, in my case. And while they don’t need to worry about perimenopause (lucky them), they are watching everything whether they realize it or not.
They see how I eat, how I talk about food, how I handle stress, how I take care of myself—or don’t. And I can already spot the same patterns starting to form. The convenience choices, the quick sugar, the “I’ll just eat whatever” mindset that feels harmless now but adds up over time.
That’s the part that hits me the most. This isn’t just about me trying to figure it out at 37. It’s about deciding what gets carried forward and what stops here.
I can’t go back and redo my 20s, but I can be a lot more intentional now. I can actually fuel my body instead of winging it. I can focus on getting stronger instead of just trying to get through a workout. I can start paying attention to my cycle instead of being caught off guard by it every month.
And honestly, that shift alone changes everything. Not overnight, not perfectly, but enough to feel the difference.
So if you’re in this phase and wondering why things suddenly feel harder than they used to, you’re not imagining it. You’ve just reached the point where your body requires a different approach than it used to.
And once you understand that—and actually start supporting it instead of fighting it—everything starts to feel a whole lot more manageable.
This is the exact shift I’ve been working through myself—and what I’m walking a small group of women through right now, just getting back to the basics and doing it in a way that actually fits real life.
