I am in my early 40s, at least for a couple more months and then I will turn 44 and enter my mid-40s (Eeek!). I know things change as you get older. I have already forgotten things (I mean that hit in my 20s!). I am beginning to fall apart physically (more to come in a different post). And of course, like with any female life change, the figure has gone to shit.

I was never a skinny little thing. I always had some extra chub on me, but it was proportional to my body. In my 20s, everything was nice and firm. In my 30s, still pretty firm. But one day in my 40s I woke up and said, “What the fuck?!”

The fuck in question was the dreaded muffin top. Not the type you eat (Yum!) but the type most women get as they become perimenopausal. My experience with perimenopause started with chin hairs (so, so many!), increased to some hot flashes, and has now hit the muffin top phase.

I felt disgusted at my carb-filled stomach. I felt like I let myself go. I mean Covid didn’t help. But there was also the fact that I was lacking in my exercise and had just had my physical where I was horrified at the number on the scale. Of course these feelings coupled with the other experiences brought on a bout of moderate depression (because, hello, that’s me!).

I had stopped therapy awhile ago. I knew these feelings needed to be addressed but I didn’t think talking about my perimenopausal/middle age woes was appropriate with a millenial male. I began my search for a grandmotherly type, one who has been through all of this.

I found her and begun to address my obese feelings about my new body.

In the meantime, as I had promised my physician, I began to look at my food makeup and intake. As several months passed, I had dropped 12lbs. And you know what? I felt so much better about myself! Amazing, right?!

There are still times I look at my new body and say, “Shit, why can’t men ever go through all these physical life changes?!” No, I don’t always say that because hello beer belly and balding head.

I have begun exercising routinely again, reincoporating weights into my regime. But no matter what I do, the muffin tops stays, just as wiggly and jiggly as before.

I have come to accept this new figure. What other choice do I have? So now I take my high waisted mom jeans and pull them on up over the muffin, looking like Steve Urkel, and enjoy life as any middle-age woman should.

And if someone says something, and because I am middle-aged and perimenopausal, I just ignore them because I don’t give a fuck anymore.