‘Curves’. I’ got more now then ever in my non-pregnant life, my friends.

Thank goodness for writers, actors, and advocates of body shape diversity and acceptance. The concept feels hard to integrate for a culture that pedestalizes Barbie, but we need to keep talking ourselves in that direction with our thinking brains, even if our feeling brains lag a far distance behind. Humans come in all shapes and sizes, and we change with age. The more we accept this fact, while executing the practices we know keep us healthy, the better we will all feel about ourselves, treat ourselves, and treat one another.

Subcutaneous fat is okay, protective, even. Visceral fat not so much. My ratio (as imaged by DEXA scan) is healthy overall, which is reassuring. But I still don’t like how I look a lot of the time in my middle-aged mom bod.

And yet, I am fitter now that at anytime since my 20s, and stronger by far than ever in my life. The leading indicators of my physical fitness land well in the optimal range. Eating indicators less so, but still improve incrementally these days with deliberate, conscious effort (so much effort–or at least mental load, if not consistent action!)

The ambivalence is so real—I’m doing the work, no question. The outcome falls short of desires, frustratingly so. I would like to have a smaller body by about 10 pounds. That was the set point for much of my adult life. About five years and ten pounds on today, I feel my age and family history creeping up on me, and wonder when/whether I will end up on medication for glucose control or other issues. It took me several months to realize that would not be the end of the world.

Back in 2003 I didn’t notice patients expressing shame about starting medications for blood pressure, cholesterol, or glucose. We talked about lifestyle and habit change then also, but when meds were indicated we simply initiated and followed up. It did not feel nearly as laden with social guilt as it feels now.

Today when medications are required to manage any of these medical issues, it’s too often seen as some kind of failure, and my patients ruminate if their ‘metrics’ are imperfect or ‘not at goal’, even a little bit. As if nobody should ever have any of these diagnoses if only we lived the perfect lifestyles; as if those lifestyles are so easy and accessible to us all.

What do our *systems* actually promote? How easily can we achieve 10K steps a day and a low volume Mediterranean diet with long mealtimes to enjoy our organic foods in the loving company of people who help us rest and digest? Who can reliably obtain affordable fresh produce and unprocessed protein, with time to plan, purchase, and prepare all of our meals at home? Who enjoys workplaces and jobs that give us autonomy, mastery, purpose, meaning, and psychological safety so our nervous systems can live not in constant fight or flight mode? In my observation only a privleged and elite few (and fewer of them, these days), and even they struggle with maintaining optimal health a lot of the time.

When the root causes of our dis-ease are systemic and oppressive and yet we blame individuals for failing to achieve ideal outcomes with no support, and the system additionally rewards those who prey on and profit from our fears and feelings of inadequacy and hopelessness, our lack of self-efficacy and self-compassion, then we get exactly what we have now: obsession over biometric minutiae without context, compulsion for more diagnostics that then drive oversimplified ‘solutions’ that don’t address root causes, an escalating disparity between those who can afford the quick ‘fixes’ and those who cannot, and pathologizing the normal, while we all lose sight of and connection to what gives life meaning and joy and ultimately makes us healthier.

All of that to say, I think I can be done with the self-judgment over my squishy parts. I have always been the chubby one in the family, I do a ton of work to moderate my indulgent tendencies, and I’m a middle aged, working woman in the urban West. I’m built to withstand famine and I train to withstand stress. I will continue to treat body and mind as the vintage vehicles they are, carrying me each day to meet my people, learn all kinds of cool new things, and live my best life, even if that means I’ got ten extra pounds on my frame. I will strive to get to bed on time, eat more colors, increase the intensity and frequency of my cardio, and revel in what my body can do now. Whatever it will be able to do in the coming decades will be the rewards of my efforts today. And I could still get smaller if I want.
I’ got this.

So to all the curvy menopausal mamas out there, I see you. We’re all here doing our best. Let us cheer for and encourage ourselves and one another in our efforts, celebrate the wins (if not for all this work, I’d carry much more than these 10 extra pounds, I say!). What we do to take care of ourselves matters, even if we don’t always see the results we want.

Onward!
Boobs Out!
Squishy Strong!