‘A pretty dark place’: fitness titan Michelle Bridges on the hardest time of her life

Businessman John Keats has known fitness queen Michelle Bridges since the late 1990s, when she roared in Sydney at the Sportsgirl Barina with everything she had in her boot and started working out at a gym near her car dealership. You’ve seen him become a millionaire and a mother; love and his heart is broken; and became an Australian philanthropist before facing the public humiliation of being caught driving drunk with his four-year-old son Axel in the back seat.

These days, Keats, who owns a Pilates studios, lives on a farm near Bridges property in the NSW Southern Highlands with his wife Louise. The dapper, salt and 50 peppers — something is a Bridges training coach, who catches snakes and a game picker. After Bridges’ mysterious split from his latest partner, former military coach Steve “Commando” Willis, Keats wants him to find someone who is useless, funny and not easy; the kind that will bring him a cup of tea in the morning. The world has exploded, perhaps. “Someone who will love you for who you are,” he said. He doesn’t even have to have muscles: “A lot of guys can feel intimidated, and think,” I’m not good enough, I have a *** belly, “Keats said.” It may have been high on his list at times, but not more. and wrong. ”

Sponsors may need to adjust their view of the Bridges, and, if they still think of her as an Amazon, unbeatable Amazon that appealed to hundreds of thousands of Australian women to stop making excuses and kick those kilos off the side of the road. The bridges, once the familiar face of downtown Sydney in Potts Point, now occupy four hectares with Axel and Banjo, an immoral cavoodle. Recently, Banjo pulled out the gate and the Bridges, wearing gumboots and wearing a dress, have had to run down the street throwing chicken coops to stop them. He fixes a passenger cabin, fights off his old dangerous oven, and goes to sleep in a cardigan and a beanie in the winter because his farmhouse is too cold. She is a single mother who takes up schooling, trains under the age of 6 and spends many hours playing with her son on the floor.

“To be honest, it was the most difficult time of my life, once leading up to the incident. I felt like I was in trouble. I felt very lonely. ”

Brandges Bridges continues, along with his online fitness program, 12 Week Body Transformation (12WBT). But the world has changed, and so has he. Gone is the speed of liberation; drive to move forward, hard, fast. It’s over, too, because of the belief in drunk driving, the idea that Bridges is less wrong than the rest of us. He built his empire with the message that we can overcome the challenges in our lives by engaging in them, and then he faced the disintegration of shameful relationships and the social stigma that hurt so much that his amazing power could not overcome them.

“To be honest, it was the most difficult time of my life, once leading up to the incident. I felt like I was in trouble, ”he said. I felt very lonely. ”She was broken. He remains injured. But Michelle Bridges is back.
We are sitting in the conference room at the 12WBT utilitarian office in Surry Hills, central Sydney, talking about the childhood of Bridges. His voice sounds like a man smoking a pack a day, due to years of shouting at the music while struggling to lift the weights, and his eyes are bright blue. He’s 50 years old but he doesn’t look at it. Her hair is back, and there are gold chains around her neck, a gold bracelet on her wrist and a gold ring on her pinky. She’s wearing jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and long black boots – simple, worn, but not high fashion.

“Oh my gosh, you’re such a marijuana,” said his old friend, coach Sean Simpson. “She is definitely not bright. You’ve finished all the red carpets and that kind of stuff, but you’re a marijuana addict. “

Bridges were born in Newcastle, a few hours north of Sydney. Her electrician father divorced his mother, Maureen, at age four, and his relationship with her was strained. “Sometimes I think to myself, ‘What would it be like to have a father? ’But it doesn’t really matter.” When he was a teenager he saw his mother crying when he called her, he took the handset and told her to remove it ****. You have seen him at family funerals; there have been a few emails, but “in all, we have all just decided that we are living our lives, and I have made peace with that”.
The 1970’s were a difficult time for single mothers. Maureen Bridges (now Partridge) paid a neighbor to take care of her two daughters after school while she worked as a secretary, but she did not have a backup when the girls got sick, and she would have to leave them alone. “I feel sorry for him,” Bridges said. “My life – by design – is made entirely different. I had all my work, I had a baby very late, and now I can spend more time with him because I worked in the hard yards in the early years. ”

The bridges were attended by five schools in 13 years, including one east of Nelson Bay and another northwest of Tamworth, and he was defeated as a foreigner most of them. “A girl slapped me in the face. I was thrown food. I had my school bag double. I remember my mother crying because we had no money, and she had to fix the whole school bag because everything was trashed inside. “Bridges know the brave face that worked well for him

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