Flouting the Rules: The Freedom of the Feral Forties
Throwing out their rule book to write our own
I have never been this unbothered. It’s a curious feeling and strangely empowering. Since I’ve entered my feral forties, I seem to have left behind so many things society said I should care about because it turns out that I don’t care at all.
F — the Rules
I have to admit that flouting the rules is fun — far more than trying to follow them. I was having coffee with a friend when this subject came up in a roundabout way.
I know I’ve put on weight. I can see it. I attribute it in part to the increase in cortisol from a spectacularly stressful year, the onset of perimenopausal symptoms, and two necessary medications with side effects that include weight gain. Growing up, the media truly drove home the idea that weight gain was the worst possible thing that could ever happen. Weight gained was weight meant to be lost again.
But I feel comfortable in my own skin. I don’t feel unhealthy, and I’m not experiencing any negative health impact from the weight I’ve gained. Rather, my health has benefited immensely from the medication I take, and it’s not something I can forego for the sake of weight loss.
