Why is my body turning into a circle?
And other tales from pre-pre-menopause.
I’ve written about the rage. I’ve written about the wrinkle in the middle of my forehead that likes to taunt me from time to time. But what I’ve yet to touch on is the very real transformation of my body into a circle.
Apparently, this is a thing. But apparently, it’s also a thing we don’t talk about out loud because it’s embarrassing/frustrating/something we’re supposed to ‘just not care’ about. Well… I care. And I think you do, too.
As someone who has always been extremely active—especially pre-kids when training for and running half marathons or going to spin several times a week was just something I did for ‘fun’—the transformation I’ve witnessed in my physical self over the last few years has been both inspiring and unsettling in equal measure.
At first, there came awe. Awe at the incredible power, resilience and strength of the female body to conceive, carry and birth an actual human. And while many of us Millenials spent our teens and 20s berating our bodies thanks to the very unhealthy diet culture of the 90s and 00s—watching your body transform week to week through pregnancy is somewhat of a gift. It is the ultimate act of surrender and while I can only speak from my own experience, for the first time in my life, I felt complete joy and contentment in my body. I was ‘bigger’ than I’d ever been, arguably far less fit, felt horrendously unwell and yet I was so in awe of what my physical form could do.
Even postpartum, I felt a new sense of comfort in my own skin that I could have only dreamt of during adolescence. And while I can certainly acknowledge that this is not the same for every postpartum woman—and there are countless contributing factors to how our physical self shifts and adapts as we go from maiden to mother—for me, I have felt more myself and more confident in my physical body post-kids than I certainly thought I would.
But over the last year or so, I have felt another shift begin to take place. As I drag myself out of the fog of early parenthood and feel grateful that the ‘baby’ stage is well and truly behind me—I’ve found myself turning my attention once again to my physicality. I’m unashamedly trying to ‘optimise’ my health and wellbeing—not only for the obvious reasons like improving my longevity or upping my strength so I can continue to carry my kids on my hip—but also, sorry not sorry, for vanity. Now that my body no longer belongs to the tiny humans I birthed, I want to look after it again—and that includes feeling confident when I look at it or get dressed in the morning.
So why does it feel like I’m turning into a circle?
While on the face of it, this may be a slight exaggeration—I’m not yet circular—after speaking with many women in my orbit about the physical and hormonal shifts that occur during this stage of life, I’m certainly not alone. Almost every single woman I’ve broached the subject with (some with kids, some without), have admitted that they feel almost at war with their physical form. That despite doing ‘all the things’—exercising, eating well, prioritising sleep, taking the supplements they’ve been prescribed and ‘indulging’ in the appropriate forms of self-care—they feel like their bodies simply don’t respond. And I hard relate.
Objectively, I eat really well. Always have. It’s a running joke, in fact, between my husband and I that I always choose the salad. Not for health reasons, not because it makes me feel morally superior—I just f***ing love salad. I also f***ing love chocolate and indulge regularly, but the point is, I could eat ten tonnes of salad or ten tonnes of chocolate and it wouldn’t make a difference. All food groups seem to slog their way through my metabolism as if I’m trying to shift a mountain with nothing more than a soup spoon.
Similarly, even though I can argue that I am finally becoming more active postpartum than I was a year ago—whether I run, lift weights, do Pilates or sit on my salad-filled toosh—my body just seems to shrug and say: cool, go you.
And honestly, for the most part, I’m okay with all this. What I’m not okay with, however, is how since our generation grew up with such toxic views of our own bodies, dieting was completely normalised and eating disorders felt like a dime a dozen—as women, we’re now told constantly that we should be grateful for our bodies and never ever talk about what they look like.
While I very much agree with the sentiment that it is never our role or right to comment on someone else’s body and that we very much need to undo the toxic relationship with our own bodies in order to reframe what ‘healthy’ looks like more broadly so that we can do a better job in raising the next generation—what I don’t agree with is the cultural dialogue that suggests in order to do that, we simply shouldn’t talk about how our bodies look at all.
This feels disingenuous. And to be honest, it feels like just one more way we as women are being told to be quiet.
In no way do I believe we should be criticising ourselves—I actually believe that body positivity or at least, body neutrality is very much something we all need to strive for. But in order to reach that place where we can both feel grateful for what our bodies are capable of and not feel frustrated when we see it in a mirror—we need to be able to talk about it. With ourselves, with our girlfriends, with our partners…
As we enter the next stage of our hormonal lives, the truth is, many of us do feel like our bodies are betraying us—just as we finally regain our independence. And while there are so many factors that contribute to our changing form as we head into perimenopause and menopause—and certainly so many wonderful healthcare and integrative practitioners who can support our hormonal wellbeing at this time (and if you’re interested, I can certainly point you in the direction of some fabulous women I’ve interviewed on the subject!)—at the end of the day, I think it’s important that we give ourselves permission to talk about it. The good, the bad—and the circular.
