I swear, one day my metabolism was right there beside me—burning through diner fries at midnight, forgiving back-to-back iced coffees, and bouncing back from a “bad” weekend with barely a bloat. Then midlife hit, and poof—gone. Vanished. No goodbye note. No warning.
I imagine it now: in oversized sunglasses and a hoodie, sipping green juice under an alias, hiding out in some hormone-friendly wellness compound where no one says the word “perimenopause.”
But here’s the thing…
It’s not dead.
It’s just in Witness Protection—dodging drama, carbs on an empty stomach, and anyone still doing chronic cardio with zero sleep.
The Cold Case File: Where Did It Go?
I used to be able to skip breakfast, survive on caffeine and vibes, and somehow still maintain a functioning body. Now if I miss a meal, my blood sugar files a formal complaint.
What used to be effortless now requires intention. And that’s not failure—it’s biology.
Estrogen is shifting.
Muscle mass is sliding off like that one bra strap that never stays up.
Cortisol is out here playing whack-a-mole with our moods, sleep, and cravings.
And metabolism?
It’s not broken—it’s just picky now.
What My Metabolism Will Actually Respond To (Apparently)
Protein in the morning: because coffee is not a personality anymore
Strength training: not to “tone,” but to keep my engine running
Fiber and fat: because midlife digestion doesn’t play
Sleep: IYKYK. And if you don’t? I’m jealous.
Joy: Yes. Joy. Your metabolism does not want to live in stress 24/7.
What Makes It Ghost Me Even Harder?
Starving myself to “get back on track”
Skipping meals (especially breakfast)
Emotional eating and then feeling shame about it
Obsessing over calories instead of nourishment
Ignoring the fact that I’m not 25 anymore
I’ve tried all of those. Maybe you have too. And if so? You’re not lazy. Or undisciplined. Or “doing it wrong.”
You’re in midlife, and your body has simply evolved.
So, What Now?
Now we learn to negotiate with our metabolism.
We stop screaming into the void and start actually listening.
And if you’re tired of guesswork, guilt, or Googling “why am I always tired and bloated”—
I got you.
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Midlife isn’t the end—it’s just a rebrand.
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