Your Body Is Not the Problem.
- Jul 1
- 3 min read
Your relationship with it is.
Read that again.
Because one of the most hostile environments you'll ever live in isn't your workplace.
It isn't social media.
It isn't the menopause.
It's the conversation happening inside your own bloody head.
The one that says:
"You've let yourself go."
"You used to look better."
"Who's going to fancy you now?"
"You should try harder."
"Just lose the weight."
Imagine saying those things to your best friend.
You wouldn't.
So why the fuck is it acceptable to say them to yourself?
We've been taught that ageing is something to fight.
Something to hide.
Something to apologise for.
As though wrinkles are a moral failure.
As though grey hair means you've somehow stopped being interesting.
As though the only acceptable woman is one who looks like she's been preserved in formaldehyde since 1998.
It's exhausting.
And do you know what's ironic?
The desperate attempt to stay young is one of the fastest ways to age.
Not your face.
Your spirit.
Comparison ages you.
Shame ages you.
Self-hatred ages you.
Living every day at war with your own reflection is fucking exhausting.
Here's what nobody tells you.
Your essence doesn't age.
Your humour.
Your kindness.
Your curiosity.
Your ability to make someone feel seen.
Your ridiculous laugh.
The way your eyes light up when you're talking about something you love.
The part of you that has survived heartbreak, loss, disappointment, joy, childbirth, grief, reinvention and ordinary Tuesdays.
That part?
It's timeless.
Your body is simply the vehicle carrying it.
Now imagine you've been given a beautiful vintage car.
It's not perfect.
The paint has faded in places.
The leather's softened.
The engine needs a bit more warming up these days.
It rattles occasionally.
Makes a few unexpected noises.
Bit like my knees when I stand up.
Would you scream at it every morning?
Would you call it disgusting?
Would you refuse to drive it because it wasn't brand new?
Would you spend every journey wishing it looked like a Tesla?
Of course you bloody wouldn't.
You'd service it.
Look after it.
Polish it.
Respect the miles it's travelled.
You'd understand that its value isn't despite its age.
It's because of its story.
So why do we offer more compassion to an old car than the body that's carried us through an entire life?
Your body has done some extraordinary shit.
It has healed.
It has adapted.
It has carried stress it should never have had to carry.
It has survived years of rushing, worrying, pleasing, producing, coping and pretending.
It has worked overtime while you criticised it for not looking twenty-five anymore.
Honestly...
Your body deserves a fucking medal.
Not another diet.
And menopause?
Menopause isn't your body betraying you.
It's your body refusing to negotiate anymore.
It's saying:
"I carried you through decades of survival.
I carried pregnancies.
I carried grief.
I carried impossible expectations.
I carried everyone else.
I cannot keep carrying your self-hatred as well."
That's not betrayal.
That's communication.
Maybe that's why midlife feels so uncomfortable.
Because it's not just your hormones changing.
It's your tolerance.
You stop tolerating uncomfortable bras.
Uncomfortable conversations.
Uncomfortable relationships.
Uncomfortable expectations.
And eventually...
You stop tolerating the way you've been speaking to yourself.
Or at least, I hope you do.
Because no cream.
No injection.
No treatment.
No number on the scales.
No expensive serum promising to reverse time... ...will ever fix a hostile relationship with yourself.
You can spend thousands trying to look younger.
Or you can spend today learning to become kinder.
One of those changes your face.
The other changes your life.
So here's the question I've been sitting with.
If your body isn't the enemy...
Who told you it was?
And more importantly...
How much longer are you willing to believe them?
Because the goal was never to arrive at fifty looking thirty.
The goal was to arrive here still knowing who the hell you are.
Take care of your body.
Feed it well.
Move it often.
Rest it properly.
Get the medical support you need.
Love it fiercely.
Not because it looks a certain way.
Because it's the only home your timeless self will ever have.
And that's worth a hell of a lot more than another anti-ageing cream.
With Love from Missy Moo xxx
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