
The first time I got real hate on social media, I wasn’t even trying to make a big statement.
I had simply posted about my journey — what I had learned after 25 years in the wellness industry, after finally figuring out how to truly listen to my body instead of fighting it.
But then the comment came:
“Even skinny people get belly fat. It’s called menopause.”
At first, I didn’t even know what to say.
Because what they thought they were seeing — and what I was actually sharing — were two completely different things.

I wasn’t posting about being skinny.
I wasn’t pretending menopause doesn’t change your body.
I wasn’t showing off or flexing some transformation.
I was sharing something much deeper:
That after decades of doing “everything right” — lifting weights, running, eating clean — my body was still changing, and the answers I kept getting from doctors, trainers, and even other women were the same:
“That’s just menopause.”
“That’s just aging.”
“You have to accept it.”
But something inside me refused to believe that the only answer was giving up.
I didn’t set out to be skinny.
I set out to understand what was actually happening in my body.

When I got that comment, I read it out loud to my daughter.
Without missing a beat, she smirked and said,
“Well, Mom, I guess you’re officially a skinny bitch now.”
We both laughed.
Because if you know me, you know how far from that stereotype I am.
I’m not surviving on three almonds and a side of rage.
I’m not obsessed with scales or chasing a younger version of myself.
If I haven’t eaten four full meals by two o’clock, believe me — everyone knows it.
Real meals. Real food. Real energy.
Omelets packed with vegetables.
Thick sourdough with peanut butter.
Oatmeal drowned in whole milk, bananas, and berries.
Turkey burgers the size of my head.
Cottage cheese and apples when I need to stay steady between meals.

I’m not hungry.
I’m not angry.
I’m not surviving.
I’m living. Fueled. Full.
And finally free.
This didn’t happen overnight.
It wasn’t luck.
It wasn’t some magic diet or a miracle supplement.
It was years of paying attention.
It was deciding that I didn’t have to accept fatigue, pain, and swelling as inevitable.
It was rebuilding my habits from the inside out — slowly, imperfectly, consistently.
And yes — sometimes depending on the lighting, the angle, the split-second a photo is taken — I still see my old insecurities.
The back fat. The soft spots. The reminders of a body that lived through real life.
But now? I also see someone stronger than I ever imagined.
Someone who didn’t give up when the world said it was too late.

This journey was never about “beating” menopause.
It was about understanding it.
It was about giving my body what it needed to thrive in this new season — not punishing it for changing.
I didn’t lose belly fat because I hated my body.
I lost it because I finally respected it.
So for anyone who still thinks this was about vanity, or trying to pretend aging doesn’t happen:
You missed it.
This is about living fully.
Fueling properly.
Moving with purpose.
Resting when needed.
Respecting the chapter I’m in — and loving it enough to stay in the fight.
If that makes me a skinny bitch at 52, so be it.
I earned every inch of this life.
And we’re just getting started.
Post Conclusion for Sharing:
*Not everything you see on social media tells the full story.
This wasn’t about getting skinny.
This was about getting free.*














