I Accept Myself, Except for...
...That One Weird Arm Flap Thing
I’m all for body positivity.
Radical self-love? Preach.
Mirror affirmations? I’ve got sticky notes like a damn CVS receipt.
But let’s be real: I’m still side-eying that one weird arm flap thing that showed up one day like, “Hey girl, I’m here to jiggle even when you're not moving.”
Like—who invited you?
Some days, I’m at peace with my changing body. Other days, I’m trying to find a long-sleeve dress for July. This is the emotional rollercoaster of midlife body acceptance: part empowerment, part “WTF is happening to my elbows?”
The Truth We Don’t Talk About Enough
You can love yourself and still feel weird about what’s changing.
You can embrace your curves, your stretch marks, your softness—and still want to firm things up.
You can say, “I accept myself,” while also Googling “non-surgical bat wing fixes.”
Self-acceptance isn’t all-or-nothing.
It’s a messy, honest process that evolves along with your body. And let’s be clear:
Your body isn’t betraying you.
It’s responding to a hormonal hurricane while trying to keep you upright, breathing, and somewhat sane. That’s heroic, honestly.
What Changed? Literally Everything.
Midlife brings:
Skin elasticity that’s suddenly… optional
A metabolism that ghosted you
Boobs that change zip codes overnight
Belly fat that clings like a toxic ex
And yes, those adorable little arm flutters that wave goodbye five seconds after you do
You didn’t “let yourself go.” You just entered a new hormonal era that no one properly warned you about. (Shout out to the patriarchy.)
Here’s What I Know
Midlife doesn’t require perfection.
It requires presence.
It requires softening into what is and reigniting what still wants to be expressed—your sensuality, your confidence, your connection to pleasure.
You don’t have to love every inch of your body every single day.
But you do deserve to feel sexy, seen, and alive—arm flaps and all.
💌 Ready to reconnect with your sensuality—even if you’re not 25 and perky anymore?
Join the Passion Zone Newsletter, where we talk desire, body changes, intimacy, and pleasure—without shame, pressure, or beige underwear energy.
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It’s for right now.