“My name is Pam, and I am 50. When I was 8 years old I became a motherless daughter. The crush was fierce. My life changed in an instant and suddenly I was being raised by a man who wasn't really sure he wanted to have kids. My childhood was littered with chaos, fear and violence and if it wasn't for the love of my stepmom and my brothers, I'm not sure how I would have survived.
I struggled most of my life with body issues, as most of us women do. As a teen, when my body developed much faster than my friends, I slipped into anorexia. It was a painful time but I was rescued by my best friend. She showed me that I was loved and that someone actually cared. In my twenties I began to practice yoga, and eventually became a teacher. In my thirties I began to run and cycle. I wanted perfection. I honestly never achieved it. I am curvy, and no matter what I did, I still had curves. I wanted to be flat. When I was at my most "fit", running marathons and cycling all over California, I still hated my body.
It wasn't until I hit my forties, that I realised that my body is a beast. It has birthed and nursed two children, and it has run marathons. It often carried a baby in each arm, a handbag, a baby bag, a Starbucks, and probably pushed a pram at the same time. It left one country and took two happy teenagers to England to begin an MBA programme. I started a business and work endlessly. It's a warrior! When I stand naked in a mirror, I'm never initially happy with the sagging breasts, the extra padding on my belly, or the arms (oh my god the arms, why does this happen?), but then I remembered everything this body has accomplished, and I think "right ok Pam, stop beating yourself up".
My job is about helping people age gracefully, beautifully, and in that I hope to make people feel better about themselves. It's ingrained in my soul. We are not perfect, nor can we ever be. Every day I want to celebrate women as incredible beings. My biggest hope is that I can make a daily positive impact into someone's life, but more importantly that my daughter looks at me and says "yeah, she's pretty ok, and I'm pretty ok too.”0