Spring is here.
For me, spring sets off a series of events I like to call ‘I Must Clean All the Things,’ and the last item on that list is always the flower beds. I put it off. It’s an overwhelming and tangled mess, but I know it has to be done. But this year, I found myself avoiding this task for another reason: I couldn’t bear to go outside in shorts. The weather was calling for them with temperatures in the upper 90s, but I found myself shirking away from my pile of cutoff jeans in my closet. I joked that I didn’t want to subject my neighborhood to all that.
But, if I were really being honest, I just didn’t want to subject myself to… myself. In shorts.
My body is changing. There are veins, weird bumps, and white skin that is so pale it nearly glows. My muscles are not as muscled. My skin is not as smooth. It can be a tough thing to accept all this, and with my ever-present menopausal symptoms that seem focused on attacking my Mental health, my lack of body confidence was really throwing me off. Spring used to mean longer runs outside, lots of sunshine, and digging in the dirt. It was a celebration of warm sun on skin. Now, it feels like I have to bundle up and give myself a long pep talk in the mirror just to venture out there.
In my experience, menopausal symptoms are often viewed as nuisances, not “serious” or substantial ailments. I disagree, of course. Daily, I am subject to aching joints, acute anxiety, and tinnitus. These are serious problems, and yet, so often menopause is viewed as something to endure and not question. As an ex-doctor once told me, “You’re going to have some hot flashes and maybe some other stuff.” Women are asked to get used to it. After all, it’s only menopause.
I have fought back against this mindset by speaking and writing about my experiences since my perimenopausal days. I’ve done a lot of research and reading, and even presented my own TEDx talk about the subject. All this preparation made me feel like maybe I had a handle on menopause. Maybe I had figured it all out.
And so, when springtime came around, I was unpleasantly surprised by yet another new challenge in my menopause journey: a pervasive lack of self-esteem about my appearance that I had never experienced before. For a while, I didn’t talk about it. It seemed vain and a little embarrassing to admit to others. Could my own view of my own body be that big of a deal?
Turns out, it is a big deal. Here’s why: Studies have shown that a lack of self-image and body confidence can actually increase the strength of my menopausal symptoms. And for me, this had a distinct effect on my ability to move my body and feel better. The intensity of my symptoms was only exacerbated by my lack of self-esteem.
Body image and menopausal symptoms conversely affect each other. It’s like the spring chick and the menopausal egg.
The only thing that helped (besides contemplating getting work done and then laughing at the thought) was Self-awareness and self-acceptance. Both are tricky: Self-awareness can lead to intense periods of self-absorption. Self-acceptance only seems to really work in patches. I haven’t mastered either.
To work on this, I started by acknowledging that this body has done some amazing things. I have birthed two babies. I have sobered up (14 years in recovery! Yeah me!), I have run two half-marathons, and I have managed to exist in the chaos that is 2026.
With all that in mind, last weekend I mustered up some courage and did the next right thing. I shoved the negative self-talk aside, put on the shorts, and slathered myself in sunscreen and self-love and headed out. Low body confidence has no place in my life anymore. I don’t have time for it. My iris beds need me.
