Every year without fail, as soon as the temperature creeps above 19 degrees and the shops start flogging bikinis with no actual support or boob coverage, we’re hit with the same tired nonsense: Get your body ready for summer!
I don’t know about you, but my body has been here all year. It’s just a bit (a lot) sweatier right now.
But it seems like a popular topic of discussion, so if you’re looking to get your summer body sorted – without daft juice cleanses, expensive gym memberships, or starving yourself to the point of insanity – here are ten foolproof steps to follow.
Get summer body ready: Perimenopause style
Step 1: Have a body
That’s it. That’s the post.
You’ve done it. If you are breathing and your flesh prison is still functioning, congratulations; you’re already qualified to go forth into the summer.
But that would make a really short post, so we’ll crack on shall we?
Step 2: Accept that chub rub is part of the package
Not just for the over 40s – anyone can take heed of this. Inner thighs weren’t meant to live in isolation. If your legs love each other enough to hold hands when you walk, that’s beautiful. But also: invest in some anti-chafing balm and bike shorts. They’ll make your life 110% better and you at least 50% less angry.
Step 3: Wear whatever doesn’t stick to you
Summer wardrobe season here traditionally starts with dragging out a pile of clothes from last year and hoping for a miracle. Every item will either be too tight, too short, or mysteriously see-through. The dress that showed a little hint of cleavage two years ago is now a full-blown public indecency risk (based on a true story).
TL;DR: Bodies change from year to year, especially when you’re over 40.
It’s horrible. Believe me, I get it. In one short year I’ve gone from regular gym goer doing 5ks in my spare time and walking the dog for at least an hour a day to having wildly different priorities – namely having a job to go to and keeping a roof over my head – which means I rarely get to see the inside of a gym.
So what should one do in this situation?
Well, you really have two options: You can either spend time pining for the body you had when you bought these things and attempt to starve yourself into them, or you can accept shit happens and move on. In my opinion, you can’t go wrong with a trip to the charity shop to dump all the clothes that make you feel like shit and while you’re there, investigate what’s on offer.
Go floaty, go loose, (it’s very in right now; source: I said so) go a size bigger than you normally would – no one is ever going to see the labels inside your clothes unless they’re entirely too overfamiliar.
Step 4: Stop fucking apologising for your arms
Somewhere around your 40th birthday, you’re issued a sudden and irrational hatred of your own upper arms. It’s tradition. Stupid, but tradition.
Let’s say it louder for the people in the back (and me): you do not owe anyone toned triceps. You are not Madonna. Your upper arms are not offensive. You are not required to boil alive in long sleeves just to keep your flesh under wraps. You are allowed to have limbs and air flow.
By all means start planking if you like, but dear god, set your pits free.
Step 5: Choose a swimsuit that keeps your boobs inside
This sounds basic but is actually crucial. Fashion can politely jog on. The only criteria you need to make sure of are: stays on in the sea, doesn’t turn transparent when wet, and doesn’t require daily upper body training to get into. Bonus if it lets you bend over without flashing the entire pool.
Oh and if your swim suit older than your kids, chuck it out before the elastic goes completely when you’re coming down a water slide. Honestly, these things aren’t made to last.
Step 6: Sit (or lie) however the hell you want
On the beach. In the garden. On a bench. There is no correct way to look relaxed. Fold yourself up like a tired deckchair or stretch out like a lizard on a hot rock. You don’t need to pose, you need to sit down.
Flop. Crumple. Roll gracefully onto your side like a sunburnt manatee. You owe the world no explanations for your angles, and if it means you show your belly to the world in a less than flattering way – well I daresay they’ll get over it. That’s one part of the who perimenopause journey that I’m enjoying; not giving a shiny rat’s ass about this kind of thing. Gloriously freeing.
Step 7: Eat the ice cream, drink the frozen margarita
It’s hot, your brain has packed up, the kids are sticky, and life is short. Order the 99. Hell, get the flake. The joy that can come from a frozen treat gives you so much more than the smug feeling that you might momentarily get from abstaining.
If anyone judges you, glare at them, or – and this is my favourite – tell them to go and get fucked.
Step 8: Accept the sweat
I don’t glisten or glow in a sexy ‘influencer’ type way, I’m damp within six steps of leaving the house. Perimenopause has turned me into a human humidifier.
They say in the gym that sweat is just your fat cells crying – well, if that’s true (and it absolutely isn’t), then mine is sobbing like it’s just watched My Girl and got to the funeral bit where she shouts ‘He can’t see without his glasses!’.
But what are you going to do about it? Sit inside a fridge all day? No. You do the best you can.
You find a deodorant that promises 48-hour protection and hope for at least 12. You apply it liberally – underarms, underboobs, small of your back, wherever feels necessary. And then you crack on.
Step 9: Say a hard no to shapewear
This should go without saying but if it’s 30 degrees and your underwear requires choreography and a lie-down to get into, it’s not worth it.
You don’t need to be ‘smoothed out’ – you’re not icing a cake. Ditch whatever hellish garments you’re trying to squeeze into and get something floaty instead. Bugger that.
Step 10: Take the photo anyway
You might not love how you look right now. Maybe your hair’s doing something weird, or your arms are out and you’re still not quite at peace with that, or the heat’s made your face do that shiny tomato thing. But it’s not for you.
Take the picture. You don’t have to post it. You don’t even have to look at it again. But your kids won’t care what you looked like – they’ll just remember that you were there, ice cream, sunburn and all.
Just in case you need reminding:
This is the body that’s got you this far. It’s weathered winters, wrestled toddlers, dragged itself through school runs, job interviews, breakups, hangovers, and heatwaves. It may not be the same as it was 20, 10, – even five – years ago but this is part of the glorious rollercoaster ride that is perimenopause. Your body deserves rest. It deserves ice lollies. It deserves to exist in the sunshine – in this ridiculous heat – without apology.
So there you go: The definitive guide to getting a summer body.
Spoiler: you had it all along.
Slap on the SPF, stick your feet in the paddling pool, and carry on being fabulous. Wobbles, wine, weird tan lines and all.
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