Last week, my parents flew up for my daughter’s Spring Break. They still have friends here, so naturally, there was a dinner invitation every night.

Wanna get pho or sushi?

Or maybe king crab, where you don’t even get a reservation time until the morning of, at the whim of the restaurant because they have to catch the darn thing and verify its weight before determining the cost—and labor required to make the dishes?

Oh, and on Sunday? We’re going to get the kids together (kids still being me and my childhood best friend, even though we’re both married with children of our own) for Peking duck, beef chow fun, and a myriad of other MSG-filled, seed oil-laden dishes that make up a Chinese banquet meal.

Considering I spent the last email detailing every diet that’s every failed me, the shame surrounding my curves, and the cardboard masquerading as diet food I scarfed down for the hope of approval, it’s clear there are conflicting emotions about what it actually takes to get in shape…

As well as what it means to be respectful to your elders and culture.

In other words? I was trapped in what Story Grid calls an irreconcilable good, where I had to choose between what was best for my health, or the good of my extended family and community.

And after watching my husband subsist on 1,800 calories a day for the last 15 weeks, I was determined not to let anything sabotage his cut.

So I had to strategize.

Our workouts? Non-negotiable, even if I was getting up at 6 am to lift or putting my daughter to bed so he could log steps on the walking pad.

Cooking high-protein meals from scratch—sometimes 2x a day for two additional people on top of my husband’s very specific dietary needs and picky kid? I made it happen (and went to the grocery store a lot.)

Politely bowing out of familial obligations? If someone cared or thought I was being disrespectful, I didn’t hear about it.

And in a climactic moment I could have never manufactured in my imagination, my mom told me she was “proud of me.”

For making it to the gym 5 days a week, because it’s clearly making a difference in my body composition.

For prioritizing my daughter above all else, because she is articulate and kind and respectful to her elders.

For supporting my husband, even when his health goals are a little intense. (Does anyone else’s spouse need their protein cooked separately and weighed out before eating? Just mine?)

She probably still doesn’t understand giving up freelance business to focus on my book, but I’m hoping (?) that something will click when I land a book deal.

And last but not least? Our weekend shopping trip didn’t end with a lecture about sucking in my stomach. In fact, quite the opposite when I walked out of the store with white pants and a button-up shirt in my possession—two items that have left me in near tears in fitting rooms in the past.

Before that, we had lunch together—and she didn’t shame me for ordering Japanese curry because I intuitively knew much rice to eat before pushing the bowl away.

Maybe my mom has grown and softened in the last two years, but I also know that I have changed the way I view health and fitness.

While it’s certainly a bonus to receive a parent’s approval or look good in a fitting room mirror—the reasons for exercising and eating a certain way have to be tied to something much, much deeper.

I’m not sure I have the be-all-end-all answer, but in next week’s email, I’ll tell you more about what finally shifted my mindset—including the coach who calls me ‘the vanguard’ of his female fitness cohort. (Take that, P.E. teachers!)

Til then, I need to know—how do I keep my white pants pristine with a six-year-old around?

Talk soon,

Sophia :)