The New Year’s Resolutions I’m Making As A 52 Year Old Woman

This is the year I’m finally owning who I am—no apologies, no excuses, no nonsense.

Here’s the thing about getting older: people expect you to fade into the background. To stop wearing bold lipstick, to start wearing sensible shoes, to embrace invisibility like it’s a privilege instead of a prison. And for a while, I admit… I started buying into it. I played the part. I made myself smaller to fit into the little box society builds for women “of a certain age.” But here’s my 2025 truth: I’m too old for that.

This year, I’m shedding the rules, the doubts, and the toxic baggage. Because guess what? I’m not just old enough to know better—I’m old enough to not care anymore. Here’s everything I’m too old for in 2025:

1. Self-Doubt

I’ve wasted enough time in front of the mirror questioning whether I’m good enough, smart enough, capable enough. Newsflash: I am. And you are, too. Doubt is just fear wearing a cheap disguise, and honestly? I don’t have time for it. I’ve survived heartbreaks, career shifts, bad haircuts, and questionable fashion trends. If I can make it through all that, I can handle whatever’s coming next. Confidence isn’t optional anymore; it’s mandatory.

2. Living by Social Rules on How I’m “Supposed” to Age

“Act your age.” What does that even mean? Does it mean I’m supposed to swap out crop tops for cardigans? Stop lifting weights because “women my age shouldn’t?” Sit quietly while the world tells me my best years are behind me? Nah, I’m good.

The only rule I’m following this year is to do whatever makes me feel alive. If that means blasting Jelly Roll in my blue SUV (that I named: A-Rod) or signing up for a line dancing class, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

3. Other People’s Opinions

Here’s the funny thing about opinions: everybody has one, and none of them pay my bills. For years, I’ve let other people’s judgments get in my head. What I wear, how I run my business, what I post online—it’s like I’ve been living in a fishbowl, worried about what everyone else thinks. Not anymore.

This year, the only opinion that matters is mine. If you’re not cheering me on or helping me grow, your commentary is just background noise.

4. Apologizing for My Age, Size, Existence

Oh, I’m sorry—am I taking up space? Am I being too loud, too bold, too much? Well, tough. Women are conditioned to apologize for everything: bumping into a chair, speaking up in meetings, not shrinking to make others comfortable. And we especially apologize for aging, like it’s some sort of personal failure.

Not this year. I’m done saying sorry for things I’m not sorry for. I’m not sorry for the lines on my face; they’re proof I’ve lived. I’m not sorry for my size; it’s strong, capable, and mine. And I’m definitely not sorry for existing boldly in a world that prefers me quiet.

5. Excuses

I used to be the queen of excuses: “I’m too busy.” “I’m too tired.” “I’ll do it later.” But let’s be real—excuses are just lies we tell ourselves to stay comfortable.

I’ve learned the hard way that there’s never going to be a perfect time to start something. You just have to start. So this year, I’m trading excuses for action. No more “I can’t” or “I’ll try.” It’s all “I will” and “Watch me.”

6. Feeling Invisible

You know what’s wild? I feel more vibrant, more alive, and more me than I ever did in my twenties. And yet, the world seems to think I’ve faded into the background. It’s like women over 40 are issued an invisibility cloak, and everyone expects us to just… disappear.

Well, I’m here to say I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I’m turning the volume up. I’m showing up for myself in bold colors, unapologetic laughter, and moves that remind everyone—including me—that I’m still here, and I’m just getting started.

7. Toxic People

Ah, toxic people. The ones who drain your energy, make you second-guess yourself, or bring nothing but drama to the table. For years, I’ve bent over backward to accommodate these people, convincing myself it was the kind thing to do. But you know what’s kind? Protecting my peace.

This year, I’m closing the door on toxicity. If someone’s not adding to my joy, supporting my growth, or respecting my boundaries, they’re not welcome in my world. Period.

2025 is my year of owning my age, my power, and my unapologetic self. I’m done shrinking, apologizing, and doubting. This is the year I take up space, embrace the messiness of life, and show the world—and myself—what I’m truly capable of.

Here’s to being too old for nonsense… and too bold to care.