The burden of a hot body

Is it worse to have loved and lost, after all?

Never stand behind a parkrun sign if you don’t want to be in people’s selfies. They probably don’t all put them on Substack though.

I did some content-rich eavesdropping the other week. I’d just tried a new parkrun — Tooting Common, since you asked; lovely course, humid day — and plonked myself on a picnic table afterwards to cool down and caffeinate. Two women, a bit older than me, were chatting over coffee about their bodies.  

One was saying that she had put on weight in the past few years. She used to be really slim, and now she was a size 12 to 14. “I always identified as a small person and I feel like I don’t know who I am now,” she said. She added that she couldn’t believe her partner still found her attractive: “It’s so weird. He seems to really like my body. He really likes all the curvier bits.” Her friend responded, “Yeah they do, don’t they, what’s that about? But I just keep reminding myself that middle-aged women aren’t supposed to be thin.”

Middle-aged women aren’t supposed to be thin? 

Is that so? And yet the current generation of women approaching or in the thick of middle age (at 43, I don’t feel quite there yet but it’s definitely breathing down my increasingly dehydrated neck) have been brought up to put thinness next to godliness. I have conversations about this all the time and it’s made me realise that, perhaps, this life stage is actually easier if you have never been very slim. The friends of mine who are most unhappy with their bodies in their late thirties and early forties are the ones who identified as having “hot bodies” when they were younger. This is not me. I only ever identified as having big boobs and smoking hot spelling skills (to be fair, both of these have also deteriorated with age). 

One friend said recently that her partner’s body hasn’t changed since he was 25, while she feels that hers has been ravaged by growing older and having kids (she still looks like a totally hot piece of ass to me). And most of them say that they would be worried about ever being “back on the market” because the thought of having to bare their bits to someone new is horrifying. “I actually think if I was single again I’d have to become a lesbian,” said one, who fears she has become “scrawny” with age. “I feel like women might not mind my body and probably quite like my clothes? Men would expect me to be sexier and more voluptuous now.” 

Would they? Is this the “middle-aged women aren’t supposed to be thin” thing again? I’ve always felt like most men are just grateful someone wants to show them their tits, whether those tits are a 30AA or a 38GG. And I definitely think that any man should be grateful if any of my incredible, beautiful, clever friends deign to show them their wonderful tits, especially as most men in an appropriate age range are generally at least three of balding, greying, paunchy, craggy, boring, badly-dressed or emotionally damaged. Are some of them still attractive anyway? Yes! Therefore surely we are too, with our crows feet, stretch marks and violent hormonal mood swings. It’s what being a human is all about! 

I’m just going to break up all this copy with my last few weeks of parkrun tourism. I’ve been getting around (this one was HARD!)

It’s all so confusing. The slim women and the women who used to be slimmer than they are now mostly still want to be slim, but know it’s harder to achieve than it used to be. Those who have stayed slim feel like it’s in a less attractive way than before, because things have sagged and wrinkled and dimpled — and hearing things like “middle aged women aren’t supposed to be thin” suddenly feels like an insult. Plus, it’s often said while simultaneously slating people like Kelly Brook — someone entirely defined by having a hot body in her twenties — for putting on weight in midlife (“we just wonder if it’s time to scale back the pasta” is the snide sign-off on this magazine story from a few years back). 

My generation are all casualties of the FHM High Street Honeys era but imagine if you had actually been one. It’s why I’m wondering if never feeling defined by having a “hot” (read: slim) body is, in fact, a blessing as we get older when it becomes harder to maintain anyway. We can just continue to exist in whatever body we’re working with, a body that now might finally feel unremarkable rather than repulsive.

There is hope though. I do know a lot of women, mostly in their late thirties and early forties and of all shapes and sizes, who have started giving less of a shit recently, and it’s contagious. 

When I first started running in 2020, I wore full-length leggings every time, even when it was really hot. A year or so in, I nervously bought some shorts, but I only reached for them if it was upwards of 25C, or if I was going out before 7am when there was very little chance of bumping into anyone I knew. This summer it’s been different. I’ve realised I am way more comfortable in shorts if it’s any warmer than about 15C, possibly even cooler. I think there’s actually some science about running more efficiently with the air on your knees? Can’t be bothered to google it obviously. 

Anyway, I’ve been wearing cycling-style shorts for pretty much every run since London Marathon (can you believe I went this long without mentioning the marathon?). I have worn shorts on the school run, which was absolutely unthinkable a couple of years ago. I have worn them to the supermarket. I have allowed photographs to be taken of me wearing them and not even screamed “ONLY FROM THE BOOBS UP!”. 

You’ll just have to trust that I was wearing shorts here.

Now when I put them on I don’t even think about it. And if I, someone who was called “milk bottle legs” at school, can do that, then so can anyone. Sweaty Betty’s “Wear The Damn Shorts” campaign has attracted a bit of stick, partly because their sizing isn’t as inclusive as it could be, but I do think messaging like this has broadly had a positive impact, even if you have to buy your damn shorts elsewhere (for what it’s worth — people sometimes ask me to recommend running gear, OK?! — I do really like Sweaty Betty Power shorts, but I have become even more loyal to Happy Stride as they are half the price for the same quality, plus have cooler prints and EVEN MORE POCKETS! Also, yay for supporting small businesses, etc. In both brands, I wear a medium, and I am currently a big-bummed UK 12-14).  

Wearing the damn shorts is not about loving my body. My legs are, objectively, not my best feature. I simply realised that I’m more comfortable this way and that I just look like a normal human woman who isn’t especially hideous OR amazing. I have finally accepted that a curvy, pasty 43 year old in shorts is not a spectacle worthy of the circus. 

The next stage would be to feel actively proud of my body, and I sometimes do, in terms of strength and stamina (I RAN A MARATHON!). This is something I was thinking about when I read

Polly Vernon

’s excellent recent Substack post about the divisive bikini shots she regularly shares on Instagram. Polly is proud of her body because she does a fuckload of exercise, so I guess it’s the same reason I post selfies from parkrun and I’m sure my running content is equally obnoxious to some people. But the difference is Polly is thin and toned, so for some women, mostly the ones in the grip of everything I’ve gone on about above, it feels like an affront. Middle-aged women aren’t supposed to be thin. But this one is, and she loves it.

This was my 81st parkrun AND I CAME IN 81ST PLACE! Incredible scenes.

The other affront for a lot of people is just the act of posting stuff on social media, and I only clocked this recently when a friend said that I post more than anyone else she knows. I probably do a couple of Instagram grid posts a month (here I am!), which are shared automatically to neglected old Facebook, and I go through phases of posting flurries of Stories, but can go for days without bothering (and I tweet about twice a year). However, my closest friends rarely, if ever, share anything at all on social media. Some of them still have a selfie with their newborn as their profile picture, but their newborn started her periods last month.

But lots of B-list friends (hi, love ya even though we never talk!) and friendly professional acquaintances are far more active than I am on social media, because they are writers, journalists, paid show-offs of some description (often freelancers who need to maintain a profile to get work). I know what they’re wearing on any given day, which book they’re reading, where their kid’s at with potty training and how they feel about Keir Starmer/Blake Lively/Molly-Mae. A few of them can even be bothered to make Reels! SOME OF THEM ARE ON TIKTOK! To me, it’s normal, but for a mate who’s a teacher or a doctor and mostly follows interiors accounts, that bikini shot, running selfie, book cover reveal, new haircut or fucking Substack marketing caption must feel outrageously showy-offy. When I think about that too much, it’s a bit mortifying but ultimately the need for validation and freelance work wins out. 

But if middle-aged women aren’t supposed to be thin, they’re definitely not supposed to be show-offs. They’re supposed to say self-deprecating things to their pal in the park about how it’s so weird that their partner fancies them. Please, can we stop? Remember, you are a SEX BOMB, your body is supposed to change over time (I bet your cat’s has too) and pasta is fine.