Soft Skin, Silver Threads, and The Truth in a Changing Body

Mirror mirror on the wall

Catching the light one morning, I noticed a few new silver hairs woven through my messy strands. I turned my head to the side and raked my fingers through my new normal. The skin around my eyes shows both the crinkles of days filled with laughter, and the puffiness of nights spent soothing restless little ones. My rounder tummy and dimply legs carry the marks of over a decade of growing and nursing my children.

These small and big changes are easy to just brush off as “signs of aging” or “the inevitabilities of motherhood,” but they hold the weight of a hundred stories and a thousand inner thoughts about the truth of my changing body.

Growing up in the age of size 0 pop stars, low-rise jeans, and merciless media commentary on women’s bodies, I have perpetually struggled with the ominous cloud of body dysmorphia. With the rise of the body positivity movement, the pendulum of my inner voice swings between self-criticism and self-love.

For a long time, I thought self-acceptance meant loving everything I saw in the mirror. But now I know that it’s something much deeper—it is learning to live gently inside a body that is always evolving.

Saying Thank You to My Body

This body has been through seasons—shrinking, expanding, healing, breaking, growing, maturing, changing. It pulled all-nighters in dental school. It played tennis and ran races. It grew humans. It fed them. It held them through sleepless nights. It softened. And sometimes doesn’t work the way I want it to.

And through these seasons, I’ve criticized it. I’ve pinched the rolls and folds, I’ve sighed at the stretch marks, I’ve plucked a silver hair or twelve, and longed for the body I had “before”. But slowly, and often quietly, I’ve started to say thank you instead.

Thank you to the hips that widened and stayed that way—not just to hold babies, but to run miles. Thank you to the soft belly that serves as an excellent pillow during family movie nights. Thank you to the fine lines next to my eyes that crinkle when my husband and I share an inside joke. Thank you to the arms that jiggle—but also juggle the grocery bags and school backpacks.

I am learning that showing gratitude for my body doesn’t require perfection. It just requires gentle respect and a whole lot of tenderness.

Moving for Joy, Not Punishment

Exercise and fitness used to come with a motive: bounce back after baby, tone up, slim down, fit into the pre-pregnancy jeans. It often came with an all-or-nothing attitude. Fitness and nutrition had to be calculated by calories burned, macros consumed, and hours logged. It felt like a repayment—for pregnancies, for aging, for eating.

But after the unexpected news of our fifth baby, something shifted. One run turned into fresh air and a good audiobook, rather than trying for a personal best. A strength workout with my trainer showed me how strong my muscles are beneath the softness. A yoga session became less about flexibility, and more about pausing and reconnecting with my body. Family dance parties aren’t about burning calories, but about embarrassing my kids with my renditions of ‘90s boyband pop hits.

Now, I move because it reminds me that I can. I choose movement to nourish, not punish. Runs clear my head. Lifting weights reminds me that I am strong. Yoga makes me pause and breathe. Movement isn’t about getting back my “pre-baby body” but about reclaiming a relationship with my body that is kind and filled with joy.

The Reality of Body Neutrality

With the rise of the body positivity movement, I see more strength and self-acceptance in women than I ever did in high school. I am grateful that my daughter will grow up with different body types represented in the media. I hope that when I, or others, speak positively about our bodies, it becomes her inner voice as she is bombarded by whatever beauty standards reign supreme during her formative years.

But some days, loving every inch of my body is hard and it seems a stretch too far. So instead, I’ve learned to settle into something more sustainable: peace.

I don’t need to be perfectly brushed and polished to feel beautiful. I don’t need to adore every wrinkle, silver hair, or lump when I look in the mirror in the morning to get dressed with confidence and self-love.

This is the reality of body neutrality that works for me in this season: I have a body. Some days it’s strong, some days it’s tired, some days it’s bloated, some days it’s sprinting, some days it’s lounging. Some days I look in the mirror and smile and other days I don’t look at all.

But every day, I honor my body by showing up—with food that fuels me, movement that energizes, rest that restores, with clothes that fit, and grace for those days that feel a little harder to love myself.

There Is a Gift in Becoming

There is truth in this changing body—more than I ever found while trying to be perfect. I am not bouncing back, I am not reversing the aging clock. I am growing and moving forward.

I may be softer, more silver, and more lined. But I’ll keep tending to this body with kindness. Because I am not just a body—I have a body. It’s my home. I am worthy and powerful. I am the totality of my experiences and wisdom, setbacks and triumphs, and how I choose to treat myself.

And you are too.

Take a quiet moment to say thank you to your body—exactly as it is.