Guess what I wanted for my 40th birthday? No. Not that. Nope. Not that either. I wanted a 6-pack, and not of the yeasty, hoppy beverage variety. I'd always admired chiseled stomachs splashed across the glossy pages of magazines at the supermarket checkout, but they seemed so damn unattainable for the average woman. So I set out on a journey to find out.

Could I at my advanced age and with a complicated history achieve the body I had always wanted? And the answer is, yes. Absolutely.

But there is a price tag. A heavy one that has nothing to do with weight.

My struggle with body issues is probably going to sound eerily familiar, so I'll spare you the details. I ballooned at 200 in college, lost some weight with good old-fashioned exercise, and then tripped into bulimia and was never quite able to get up again. I gained sixty pounds with my first pregnancy that I spent three years trying to carve back off, like a Thanksgiving turkey that refuses to yield to the knife.

My wedding day was my lowest weight as a full grown woman, where I was able to dip to 128 by shutting my eyes and trying to pretend I didn't desperately want the carbs. ALL of THEM.

Two and a half years ago, I started recovery from bulimia and to help focus and reassure myself that I wasn't in danger of becoming obese, I began exercising more. Moderately. I built slowly, adding a new piece of my regimen every week. And I found out something interesting. I loved the physical challenge of pushing my body, the strength that always seemed to roar back. It was exhilarating. I began to really hone in on specific goals like topping the list on my Fitbit every week. But I wanted more. As I rounded the corner into this year, I realized it was perhaps my last opportunity to cross something off my bucket list. 6-pack abs. After all, we're not getting any younger over here.

So I buckled down, working out 5 times a week for an hour and a half or more. Lifting weights, doing yoga, Tae Bo, walking, hiking. And while I didn't lose weight, I saw muscle definition. It was exciting to watch my body reflect the change I was exerting myself to achieve. Slowly but surely I was transforming. By April, I made the decision to join Title Boxing Club because I wasn't seeing progress as quickly as I wanted.

And after my first workout, when I was struggling not to puke my guts out all over the floor, I knew I'd found the answer.

I was already in pretty good shape when I joined Title, but the intensity of the workouts made a huge difference. I cut my exercise time in half, but ended up with much better, faster results. And yet, after 5 months of sweating it out 5 times a week, I had only dropped five pounds and my stomach flab was firmly in place. The summer waned and panic set in. I turned to Dash, owner at Title and personal trainer, for help. He put me on his diet and after a month of consultations, I continued it for another two weeks on my own.

Here's what I learned:

1: Dairy and fruit are carbs. Who knew?!

2: Not eating carbs is a terrible idea for people with anxiety. It makes those voices in your head louder, the ones that nudge you with worry until you fall right over into panic. It's about the serotonin.

3: No carbs is hard. Like really hard. And unpleasant.

4: But after the first two weeks it gets better. And then you hit week 5 and you think- what is this bullshit? Why am I alive? Where did I hide that cake?

5: You will forget where you put your keys. And at times maybe why you are driving down the road or how you got there. They call it brain fog. You can't see a goddamn thing through it.

6: Supplements. B-12. Iron, Vitamin D, Calcium. Take them. Already take a multi? That's nice. Take more.

But in the end, here's what I got:

1. I lost 15 pounds in 6 weeks.

I weigh in at 119, the lowest weight I have ever sported as a grown woman. I didn't get into this to lose weight- it was just a side effect of where I wanted to go.

2. I dropped 4 dress sizes.

Yes, 4. In 6 weeks. All my clothes are falling off. I put pajama pants on the other day and started swearing. Jesus Christ- even the pajamas?! I am now a size 3. That's not even a real shoe size.

3. I lost 6% body fat. In 6 weeks.

I now hover around 18% body fat. To get some idea of what that means, a typical female college athlete is usually around 20-24%.

And yet, as you will see, I didn't get textbook perfect abs. I got abs that are the best ones that I can have. And I am perfectly happy with that.

I have big bones. A rib cage that could hide Jonah and the Whale for a month and hipbones so pronounced they once gave a child a black eye who ran into one.

Skin is only so elastic. At some point, it's done all it can for you.

It's like your favorite sweater. You still love it, even though it's worn and stretched with wear. I don't mean to hand you a cliche about self love, but I have to tell you this journey has absolutely taught me to appreciate one thing.

Our bodies are extraordinary machines. They are resilient and strong and capable and they can carry us places we'd never imagined we'd go. But they are also fragile and aging and temporary.

They break, they weep, they decompose. Our bodies are tools, weapons armed by our intellect and the force of our will.

I've finally learned to use mine with grace. And forgiveness. It only took me forty years.

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Fit at 40: Project 6-Pack