I was just lying here, looking at the stretch marks on the inside of my thigh. Funny, really—they’ve been there since I was 14.

At first, I hated them. That’s a strong word, but it’s true. They made me feel not good enough in some way. Imperfect. Growing up, I internalised that—this constant idea that I needed to fix something about myself to be worthy. I just did not see my body how it really was—I saw it through my self-judgemental eyes.

My first long-term boyfriend used to call me “chicken drumstick legs.” I know—it might sound comical, maybe even like a harmless joke, but it made me feel even more self-conscious. It made me somehow feel ashamed that I wasn’t perfect… whatever that is! Those feelings stayed with me for years. Looking back now, I feel sad for my younger self, to be honest.

Now you add in the scrutiny of social media—and it’s like being in one of those crazy funhouse mirror places that distorts your body into different shapes and sizes. We are constantly bombarded with images, filters, expectations. Everything’s telling us: you’re not enough. It can lead to being overly harsh and unkind to yourself. It creeps into your psyche unless you’re really aware of it.

Imagine being a young woman growing up in this.

But something unexpected happened in menopause and midlife.

At first, it was hard. My body was changing again, in new and surprising ways. I really wasn’t prepared for it, to be honest. I remember doing downward dog in yoga one day and realising… my arms and legs had become crepey. The lines came in thick and fast, my skin tone changed—it hit hard. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I didn’t recognise my rapidly changing body… the shell of me…

But gradually, with time, with movement, with intention—I started to shift.

I took a yoga teacher training course. I began to find peace. Not the kind of peace that comes from giving up, but the kind that comes from giving in—to reality, to grace, to gratitude. I learnt how my body was moving when I was practising yoga, and it gifted me acceptance and presence.

I focused on my diet. I became vegetarian again—mainly for ethical and moral reasons. I chose organic where I could. I noticed I needed less bread, less sugar. For some, these might feel like big changes. For me, it was more about staying consistent. It was about alignment.

Now I’m travelling, and it’s harder to control—but I’m with it. Movement, mindful choices, and telling myself I love me. That part—that mindset shift—has been the game-changer.

And I’ll be honest… I also experimented a bit. I tried Botox a couple of times. It felt weird—unnatural in my face. Not right for me. I’m not judging anyone else who chooses it (honestly, I get it), but for me personally, it just didn’t sit well. I also tried a non-invasive laser treatment. It worked well, but it was painful… and expensive. And I may try it again—who knows? But I had to ask myself: is this really how I want to spend my money?

And the answer that came was clear: no. I could’ve booked another skin treatment. Instead, I chose a ticket to Vietnam. That felt more like self-love.

That moment felt like another layer of acceptance. It wasn’t about letting myself “go.” It was about letting myself be.

After these monumental shifts, my body is still here. I may feel a bit fuzzy in the mind some days or a little lethargic as my hormones bounce around. But my body moves. It carries me. And most days, it doesn’t hurt. That’s a gift I no longer take for granted.

Because as you get older, you feel the shift. You see your peers, your elders. You start to realise how precious the body is. It’s both vulnerable and powerful. My body is my machine—fragile and phenomenal. And honestly? It's amazing.

My body has gently hiked through valleys, swam and snorkelled in Borneo, and hauled a rucksack through more than 10 countries in the last 18 months. That’s more important than how it looks.

That’s why I’m such a believer in stretching, moving, walking, swimming, yoga, dancing—anything that gets you flowing again. Not to chase youth. But to stay strong. Not to look a certain way, but to feel a certain way. To stay connected to the body I live in.

And something happens with age—the outside starts to matter less. The stretch marks, the scars, the wobbly bits—they fade into the background. Because what matters more is the kind of heart you have. The soul you bring. How you connect with others. How you show up—for yourself and the world.

When we meet someone, maybe we notice their image first—but that fades quickly. If someone is cold or unkind, their beauty disappears. But if someone radiates warmth, curiosity, truth… they glow. They become memorable. When I look at a photo of a friend, I don’t see their scars or imperfections. I see their heart. I see our connection. Their smile makes me smile.

So yes, I choose to love this body now. It’s been a journey. But that’s the gift of midlife. The wisdom that arrives. The slowing down. The tuning in. You begin to really hear your inner voice.

If you’re not quite there yet—maybe it’s time to ask yourself: what needs to shift?

I used to hate my legs. Now, I look back at old photos and smile. I was so self-conscious, so full of judgment—and yet, my body was beautiful. Imperfect, yes. But beautifully mine.

These days my legs are more scarred, more discoloured. They bruise easily. But they are still carrying me around, allowing me to travel, to exercise.

The scar on my chest? A sun cancer removed in India. The scar on my foot? From an accident in Sri Lanka. My skin literally holds the stories of where I’ve been.

That’s one of the real gifts of midlife: we stop comparing. We start settling into ourselves. We realise the external was never the be-all and end-all. It never was.

It’s still nice to feel good in what I wear—for me. But I no longer need someone to tell me I look attractive. That used to be my pattern—waiting for approval, a compliment.

Now? I wear what I love. I don’t mind if my hair is messy. I rarely wear makeup. I had a phase—after a breakup—where I needed to feel seen again. I got dressed up. I wore makeup. That season served its purpose.

But now, I’m just… at home in me.

“I finally realised that being grateful to my body was key to giving more love to myself.”
Oprah Winfrey

💛 Reflections from the Map of Me

Midlife Butterfly Notes to Self (and You):

• Your body is not a project. It is a journal, a map, a vessel. Treat it like a trusted friend—not a problem to be solved. Love it.
• Stretching, walking, movement = medicine. Find what feels good. It’s not about youth—it’s about connecting to your body and finding what makes you feel good.
• Say it out loud: “I love me.” It will feel weird at first. Then powerful. Then natural.
• Midlife is not decline—it’s alignment. Small shifts like less sugar, more breath, or mindful choices can be acts of rebellion against your life to date and what you are constantly being sold, but it’s also an act of self-devotion.
• Comparison is the thief of presence. Stop scanning the room. Come back to yourself. You’re not here to compete. You’re here to be. Beautiful, glorious, proud—you.
• Let your scars tell their story. They’re not flaws—they’re the chapters of your lived wisdom.