Is Having A Personal Trainer The New Midlife Trend?

What is it about reaching the golden age of 50-something that inspires a woman to surrender her physical autonomy to a trainer 25-year-old with biceps the size of her mortgage? You know the type: the one whose abs look like they’ve been chiselled by Michelangelo, who use phrases like “functional fitness” and “glute activation” while you wonder if “sit still with coffee” counts as a core workout.

These days, having a personal trainer seems to be all the rage. It’s no longer enough to have a stylish handbag, a meticulously curated skincare routine, or a Pinterest-worthy home office. If you don’t have a personal trainer, you’re practically living in the Stone Age of wellness. It’s as if the gym itself, with its rows of equipment and no-nonsense routines, is now considered quaint. Why be a self-sufficient adult when you can have a professionally chiselled human telling you how to lift a dumbbell properly?

The New Midlife Trend: Personal Trainers

The pressure is real. Mention at brunch that you don’t have a personal trainer and watch the raised eyebrows ripple across the table as if you’ve just confessed to not owning a smartphone. Your friends, sipping on their post-workout smoothies, will look at you with a mix of pity and disbelief. “How do you even… know what to do at the gym?” one might ask, the implication being that without guidance, you’ve probably just been wandering aimlessly around the weight room for years, lifting things at random, like some kind of pre-enlightenment caveman.

And it doesn’t stop at the gym either. Social media is now filled with selfies of people sweating under the watchful gaze of their trainers, captions like “Feeling the burn!” followed by motivational hashtags.

The humble brag about having a personal trainer is almost as essential as the actual workout. After all, if your personal trainer doesn’t make an appearance on Instagram, are you really getting fitter?

It seems we’ve reached a point where having a personal trainer is more than just a luxury—it’s a necessity for staying relevant. Forget career achievements or personal growth; the real measure of success is whether you can drop the phrase “my trainer says…” into casual conversation. Without it, you’re missing out—not only on the sculpted glutes but on a social badge of honour.

It’s not that midlife women haven’t always been active. We’ve been doing squats for years—mostly to pick up dirty laundry, crouching to unload dishwashers and carrying shopping bags. But suddenly, we’re expected to do these movements in athleisure, to techno music, while someone counts down from ten like it’s not the worst kind of countdown ever invented.

Why Are We Doing This?

Why are we doing this, you ask? It’s not because we believe that toned arms will stop our kids from asking for money or that rock-hard ab will shield us from the existential dread of ageing. No, it’s much deeper than that.

We just need a new way to fill our already-packed schedules and perhaps indulge in the illusion of self-improvement. After all, if we can survive a set of burpees, surely we can survive menopause, right?

But hiring a personal trainer comes with a hefty dose of irony. For years, we’ve been telling ourselves that ageing is about embracing who we are, and yet, here we are, paying $100 an hour for someone to change us—preferably into a younger, fitter version of ourselves. (Never mind that we’ll need to ice our knees and book extra chiropractor sessions after these workouts. Progress comes with a price – and lower back pain.)

The Irony of Midlife Fitness Goals

And let’s not forget the joy of being measured, weighed, and evaluated by someone who, last week, was probably a contestant on Love Island. This is a special kind of self-flagellation that many midlife women, inexplicably, seem to enjoy. There’s something humbling about being told that your “flexibility could use some work” when, quite frankly, you’ve been bending over backwards for your family for decades.

The real kicker? We’re doing this voluntarily. We are willingly entering sweat-soaked rooms filled with mirrors that reflect back the brutal truth that our bodies, like our social lives, are not what they used to be. The personal trainer stands by, motivating us with phrases like “You got this!” as we lie on the floor in what could easily be mistaken for a crime scene.

Still, there’s something to be said for the mental benefits. After all, a good workout releases endorphins, the body’s natural painkillers—which you’ll need after that last set of lunges. Plus, there’s an undeniable sense of accomplishment when you lift a kettlebell that weighs more than your dog, even if the victory is fleeting—much like your energy afterwards.

So, to my fellow midlife women, I say this: embrace your personal trainer. Relish the challenge of finding muscles you didn’t know existed, and savour the sweet taste of accomplishment as you limp back to your car. Because let’s face it, nothing says “I’m thriving in middle age” like having someone half your age yell “Push harder!“ while you contemplate your next ibuprofen dosage.

But at least we’re still doing something new, right?

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