Women’s Wellness or Diet Culture in Disguise?
Menopause is quite the hot topic these days. In fact, as the New York Times recently declared: We’re in the middle of a menopause gold rush.
The market is flooded with solutions to just about every menopausal related issue we might be experiencing. And if you’re a woman even approaching 40 then you’re no doubt already aware of this. From nails, to skin, to hair, to sleep, someone has a product designed to save us from the chaos our hormones are busy wreaking.
For the most part, I’m grateful that there are solutions. We’re not having the same midlife experience as our mothers, or our grandmothers, or many of the women who came before us.
As someone who’s currently somewhere between perimenopause and menopause, I know all too well how disorienting it can feel to be in a body that’s suddenly behaving differently. The fairly steady rhythm of my twenties and thirties feels distant from me now. My menstrual cycle became erratic in my mid-forties, and now at 48, it’s all but absent. It’s been replaced by tiredness, increased urination, decreased libido and bouts of insomnia and anxiety. My skin frequently feels as though I’ve been trekking the Sahara and brain fog descends on me at least a few times a day.
So yes, I’m definitely here for solutions.
But, amidst all the therapies and treatments on offer, we’re also steered towards seeking solutions for something that may not have even been on our radar as a problem in the first place. Weight gain. Or, as it’s not so affectionately come to be known, “meno-belly.”
Every single one of my raging hormones wants to know who first came up with that phrase.
Despite the very real experience of our bodies changing by necessity, diet culture doesn’t take any days off. After all, why would it? It’s far too lucrative a business to miss an opportunity to manipulate women into spending their way to self-acceptance and societal approval.
Rather than focusing our attention on how we can best meet and honor our needs during this transitional time, we’re pulled to instead question how we can best “stop the middle age spread.” All of this happens under the guise of “wellness” which is intended to soften the blow and is delivered to us with an expression of concern rather than an air of judgment.
Gen X women are especially savvy to marketing ploys. We’re far from gullible. But we are still somewhat vulnerable. Many of us were in our teens at the height of the supermodel era and body image is something we’ve been raised to prioritize. Even when we’re able to rationalize that we’re not served by ideals that stem from sexist, patriarchal origins, it’s still not especially easy to disentangle ourselves from them entirely.
In my teens and twenties I struggled to feel good about my appearance. I wasn’t considered to be naturally pretty and I rarely felt attractive. I constantly looked for ways to improve how I looked, hoping that by doing so I’d be more likely to win approval from other people, usually men. In those days I didn’t have the confidence or the awareness to recognize how warped the societal pressures for women are, and who really wins when we bow down to them.
By the time I got to my thirties I was spiraling in a very unhealthy relationship. I had no idea how to set a boundary for myself. So I looked for the easiest thing that I could control. My weight.
I bought Weight Watchers meals and diligently added up my points each day. When I was still hungry I’d eat cherry tomatoes and cucumber slices from the approved list of zero-point foods. In the evenings I’d take a long bath to stop me from snacking.
I lost weight and gained compliments. But I remained in a destructive relationship, and I still continued to exhibit destructive behaviors myself. I drank too much, smoked too much, and I was regularly at my doctors office with a stubborn UTI that wouldn’t shift.
As time went on, I began restricting food or binging and purging. It was a desperate attempt to stay slim, believing that weighing less would somehow make me a more worthy person with a more enviable life.
It took me a long time to get back to a place where my weight wasn’t the focal point of my days.
It would be a lie to say that I’ve found complete freedom from disordered eating. I’m in a much better place these days, but I still have moments where I’m considering calories, or I’m feeling some kind of conflict about food.
I no longer make myself sick or deprive myself. But I do have bathroom scales. And I do have to practice mindfulness when old thought patterns start to crop up.
However, I also have insight and clarity.
So when I see a brand or a health coach talking about “wellness” when what they’re really doing is pushing weight loss, I am very aware of what’s happening.
And I’m tired of it.
Many of these coaches will talk about how to enjoy weight-loss in menopause without dieting or restriction. And although it sounds pretty harmless, weight loss is still being singled out as an achievement. A desirable end goal. A happier life and a more worthy prize.
This is closely followed by “clean eating”. And while I don’t personally love the idea of fueling myself with ingredients that are potentially harmful or not doing my long-term health any good (which is not to be confused with my weight) I don’t appreciate anyone attaching a moral value to food.
“Clean eating” is touted as good. So, of course, on the flip side we have the label of “bad” that we give to foods that are fatty or sugary. And if we eat those foods, even if it’s just on occasion, we take the label of “bad” and we extend it to ourselves. And that’s what we really ingest. That we are bad. That we have no willpower. No self-control. No self-respect.
When I see someone using these phrases or buzzwords, it immediately dilutes the rest of their message. Because it’s clear to me that they’re not consciously divesting themselves from diet culture. Which tells me they don’t trust themselves or their work enough. Which tells me that I can’t either.
Many of us are probably familiar with a transactional type of relationship with food whereby we deny or reward ourselves according to what the scales say.
These days, instead of being fixated on the scales, I’m interested in the story beneath the story. When I find myself having a moment where I’m questioning my right to eat something I want to eat, I get curious about where that idea has come from. Who benefits from me having that thought? Who benefits from me acting on it?
It’s worth saying that there are a lot of great people doing a lot of good work around body image healing and building trust within our bodies. They tend to stand out from the rest of the crowd because they’re not even using the words “weight loss”. They’re not showing before and after images invisibly emblazoned with “worthy” and “not worthy”. They’re not talking about how long they’ve kept their own weight off.
They’re helping us pay attention to what our bodies want to communicate to us and how we can cultivate trust within that communication. They’re inviting us to consider how self-image and body image may have got muddled in our minds. It’s important work and I applaud it.
The truth is that our bodies are going through a major transition from perimenopause to post-menopause. And we will all deal with this transition differently, because no two experiences will be exactly the same.
Our bodies are supposed to change in menopause. Just as they do during puberty or pregnancy. And while it’s valid to want to enjoy a good nights sleep or be more comfortable during sex, feeling as though we have to factor in weight loss as part of our midlife self-care is really messed up.
As I move further towards menopause, I want to act with as much self-love and self-compassion as I can muster. I want to honor what my body really needs, not punish it or deprive it in the name of wellness.
I encourage you to make your own choices about your own body and what you most need to nourish and support you. But I also encourage you to pay attention to marketing that uses shame as a selling tool, and brands and coaches who are promoting wellness but actually glorifying weight loss.
Notice how you feel when you come across their posts or pages. Are they making you feel that you’re less worthy at the weight you’re at? That you’ll somehow be a better person with a better life once you’ve transformed your body? And then consider whether that’s where you want to invest your energy, or your money.
Midlife can be challenging enough without us trying to fix things that aren’t an issue. We don’t have an endless supply of energy, and our time is precious. So let’s not expend it on propping up a culture that will always find a way to criticize us.
What if wellness isn’t weight loss but feeling safe in our bodies? What if wellness is true nourishment and trust? What if wellness is really rooted in connection and community?
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