The joy and horror of the elastic waistband.

I am having a serious love affair with elastic waistbands. If it doesn’t have elastic in some part of the waistband, I’m sorry but I’m not interested. In addition to that, I don’t want the elastic to actually engage. I just want it to sit there gently and only stretch if absolutely necessary. 

The feeling of a waistband digging into me is abhorrent now. I will happily buy a size too big if it means the waistband doesn’t touch me. In fact, I don’t want to feel the clothes at all.

Even some of my beloved wool pieces are offending me. Especially the turtlenecks. Why do they suddenly feel so scratchy and wrong?

I never imagined this version of me would exist, yet here we are.

The idea of wearing heels, shapewear, a g-string, or a strapless bra makes me laugh. In a maniacal way, not a cute, giggly way. What were we doing wearing those medieval torture devices?

It’s been a couple of years since I decided to take my new body and its perimenopausal needs seriously. In the beginning I was in denial, thinking I could get myself back, back to the way I was. 

But I have learned, you can’t go back, you can only go forward.

Why do we feel the loss so acutely? 

Perimenopause brings with it profound change. Not just physical change but a change in self perception. It isn’t just the moment you catch your reflection in a shop window and think ‘who the f**k is that?’, it’s a change in identity.

And, it’s sudden.

No gentle learning curve, no training, no preparation.

Just a giant push and off you fly, head first into the deep, unknown waters. 

You can see the safe shore of your former self way off in the distance but you can’t swim back. The open water is where you are living now. 

Western culture gives women two options when they turn 40. 

Option 1 is to stay the same. Fight your body back to what it was. Lose weight, inject your face, dye your hair, reverse the change, resist the shift. There is an entire industry dedicated to this option. The message is clear, stay young.

Option 2 is to disappear. Experience the change as a retreat, as shame. Don’t lean into your power, become invisible. The message is clear, disappear.

Women are conditioned to believe that midlife signals a demise. That when our waist disappears, so does our value. So do we.

Hag, battleaxe, old bag, old biddy, old bat, old boiler, crone, witch.

Why wouldn’t we feel fear? Why wouldn't we try to swim back to the safe shore of our former selves? The options presented to women in midlife are devastating. 

But there is something the system doesn’t want you to know. There is a third option.

Learn to swim in the open water.

The midlife transition is disorienting. It can bring up feelings of grief, fear and loss. But there is a new shore waiting, full of promise. Midlife isn’t a demise, it’s a settling into a new skin. It’s a claiming of profound power. But you have to swim through the open water, with all its currents and waves of uncertainty.

The embodied style practice

This week I want you to reclaim something. The culture handed you a list of words designed to make you reject yourself, designed to make you disappear. 

Witch. Hag. Crone. 

I want you to take one back.

When you get dressed, ask yourself, how can I look like my sexiest, witchiest self? How can I embody the magnificent hag I am? How do I dress the truly powerful crone that refuses to disappear?

Cultural messages come through many channels - Media, advertising, family, friends, the fashion, beauty and wellness industries. It is also heard in your own head as the inner critic.

When you hear them, reclaim them.

When the culture calls you a witch, reply ‘The magic is real’. 

When they say you’re a hag, answer ‘Yes I am, and I’m magnificent’. 

When they call you a crone, respond ‘Indeed, I’m at the height of my powers’.

You have to actively reclaim the power.

Say it to yourself when you look in the mirror, when you are getting dressed. Say it to yourself constantly. 

Midlife is not the time to shrink, it’s the time to expand into all that you are becoming.

Your new shore isn’t found by swimming back, it’s found by swimming forward.

Stay strong, your feet will touch the sand again. 

Julie x