[Un]reasonably outraged by body image hangovers and the middle-aged thickening
L: My 40th Birthday. I felt like my suck-it-in undies were working hard. R: Almost a decade later and elasticised pants are my friend.
[Un]reasonably outraged by body image hangovers and the middle-aged thickening
I call it the thickening.
It’s a little like the f*ckening—when your day is going too well and you don't trust it and some shit finally goes down—only for middle-aged women and annoying weight gain. Everything seemed to be going well and then I hit my mid-forties.
Talking about weight is SUPER boring. Body image is something women have struggled with since Marcelino Abad (the oldest man in the world, age 124—some trivia for you) was a baby. And for women my age (Gen Xers), who grew up in the 80s and 90s, we are still shedding the layers of shame associated with the narrative of society at the time.
Our childhoods were marked with near constant reminders from the women around us who were apparently carrying too much weight, to not eat something because “it’ll make you fat”.
Jane Fonda made fitness fashionable wearing high cut leotards—not because they were trendy or comfortable—but because they made her legs look longer. The prominence of Weight Watchers heralded low fat dieting because fat was the bad guy. Now it’s sugar and carbs. There were diet pills, Slim Fast shakes and even a “pinch an inch” campaign by Special K cereal, aimed at women.
This horrendous compilation is a grave reminder of what we had feeding into our eyeballs and earholes as impressionable teens and young women. Posh Spice being weighed on national TV, Nicole Richie being told she looked “fuller” and Anna Nicole Smith being completely fat-shamed by Howard Stern—it’s painful to watch. These examples have all aged poorly but the hangover is still there.
We could—can—not win.
My relationship to my body has been complicated. I was always thin. Flat-chested, no curves. As a young teen, I stuffed my bra with tissues and wore padded bras as soon as I could afford to buy my own. With skinny, came comments about not being feminine or sexy. I was sporty and didn’t like fried food so although I ate a heap of chocolate in between (mostly) decent meals, I was lucky to have fast metabolism and therefore didn’t have to think too much about what I ate. Admittedly, I used to dream that I’d suddenly develop a C-cup without surgery.
Yet, around me, girls who “carried” weight dealt with judgements of laziness and gluttony.
Worrying about our bodies is all-consuming for many women (and having sons, I see that they often struggle with it too—bulking and lifting weights to become more “buff”). It has led to an epidemic of disordered eating.
Equating our value as a person to how we look is so very 1990, so why do I still care? I’ve lived long enough to have lost loved ones to cancer, had friends who have had their bodies altered through mastectomies and other surgeries in order to save their lives, and somehow that perspective wears off. Why? When can we stop caring about this trivial shit?
The simple and obvious answer is now. Thoughts are not facts and so it’s easy to change the internal monologue, right? Hmm, I am not great at this and society is not content to just let us be. There’s no surprise that the global Weight Loss and Weight Management industry was worth about US$224.27 billion in 2021, with projections indicating it could grow to US$405.4 billion by 2030. The beauty industry is worth US$646.20 billion. We are relentlessly hit with body image and weight loss propaganda which is why we constantly feel fat and ugly.
I try to remind myself what my body has done for me: it grew and birthed four humans. It powered me through sports in my younger days (and held me up as I danced in nightclubs). It now supports treks through the forest and pretzeling at yoga. It is a privilege to be here in this skin, even if I can’t eat what I once could and often don’t feel satiated (a common peri-menopause joy apparently).
I want to listen to (and take on) the ever-wise advice of Emma Thompson talking about wasting our lives worrying about our bodies.
DON'T WASTE YOUR TIME'S PURPOSE WORRYING ABOUT YOUR BODY.THIS IS YOUR VESSEL.IT'S YOUR HOUSE.IT'S WHERE YOU LIVE.
But disrobing gendered ideas about how women should look (dare I say, Damn You Patriarchy) is not something easily achieved. I’d love to stop comparing myself to others who have more “ideal” body shapes and have even tried saying to myself that we’d never expect a Pug to have the same shape as a Greyhound so why do we do this to ourselves. Doesn’t work. (See the poster for a fun comparison of dog breeds.)
I don’t love being in this peri-menopausal body where clothes feels tighter and the face looking back at me is rounder than the one I’m used to. I’ve given up on jeans and now favour flowy dresses or elasticised waists. I’d love to not care, to be a better body role model for my daughter, and my sons. Not surprisingly, I don’t give two shits what size anyone around me is. I love my family and friends for the time we spend, for the support they give, for the interesting conversations we have, for the bad dance moves we share and for how they make me, and the people around them, feel.
I know no one is judging me by the weight I’ve gained in my middle years but changing a lifelong mindset is not something that can be achieved overnight.
I really admire the work that author and filmmaker Taryn Brumfitt has done in this space. Her latest ‘Start Living’ campaign is an initiative to help shift our shame and judgement about our bodies. “Many people, and particularly women, spend much of their lives worrying about the way they look, and it holds them back from doing the things that make their lives worth living,” Brumfitt says. You can see one of the short clips below.
If, like me, you have struggled with looking in the mirror and at photos, wondering what age it will be when you finally accept yourself, please send me tips. My attempts at positive self talk may last as long as a fad diet, but I’m ready to give it a (cream-filled, chocolate-covered) go.
How do you get yourself out of this bad body image loop? Join the conversation on Substack.
Kx
