Why This Dietitian Still Wants to Lose Weight After 50 (and What I’m Doing Instead)

Let’s be real: midlife can shake things up in ways we never expected.

You might look in the mirror and barely recognize the body looking back at you. Maybe you’ve noticed softening in places that once felt firm. Maybe your favorite jeans don’t fit the way they used to. Maybe your energy feels different, your sleep is unpredictable, and your once-reliable routines just… don’t seem to be working anymore.

And if you’ve ever thought, “Maybe I just need to get back on track. Maybe I should try harder,”—you are not alone.

I get it. I’ve thought those same things. And I’m a dietitian who knows better.

I’ve spent years immersed in the research. I understand the science. I’ve untangled a lot of the diet culture narratives. I’ve worked with hundreds of women navigating the same questions. And I know know that long-term weight loss rarely works—especially after 50.

And still—still—there are days I catch myself longing to be smaller. To feel more in control. To make the softness go away.

The desire to lose weight doesn’t magically vanish just because you know better. Even if you’re a trained nutrition professional.

Even when you’ve seen firsthand how dieting can shrink a woman’s life far more than her body.

Those old thoughts? They still sneak in.

Especially in midlife—when your body is changing in ways you weren’t prepared for (and you certainly didn’t sign up for).

When dieting isn't the answer

I’ve read the studies. I’ve seen the stats. I know that long-term weight loss is not sustainable for the vast majority of people.

And I know that dieting, especially in midlife, often leads to more harm than good.

And yet… there are still days I catch myself thinking:

“Maybe I should just clean up my eating a bit more.”

“Maybe a new workout routine would make me feel better—ok, look better.”

“Maybe I’m not trying hard enough.”

Sound familiar?

Here’s what I keep reminding myself, and what I want to remind you too:

Going through menopause is a natural biological transition.

Just like puberty, our bodies go through massive hormonal changes in this phase.

Estrogen and progesterone shift.

Muscle mass, fat distribution, sleep patterns, even digestion—everything is in flux. This isn’t a personal failing. It’s biology doing what biology does.

But instead of honoring this phase the way we do with adolescence, we’re told to fight it. To “fix” it.

To blame ourselves for not keeping everything the same as it was in our 30s.

Cue the shame and the relentless Googling: how to get rid of belly fat after 50. It’s exhausting. And unfair.

Why It Feels So Hard

That tug-of-war between wanting to be free and wanting to be smaller? It’s not just happening in your head.

It’s the product of decades (okay—lifetime) of conditioning. We’ve been trained to believe that smaller is better.

That disciplined is admirable. That a woman who “lets herself go” is somehow giving up on herself.

Diet culture doesn’t retire just because we turn 50. If anything, it doubles down.

Resisting the Urge to “Fix” Yourself

This is the work now—not silencing that voice (at this point I'm not sure that's even possible) but learning to hold it with compassion.

Yes, I still feel the pull to lose weight sometimes. AND I also want to live in alignment with my values.

I want to be free from the mental gymnastics of “should I eat this?” “Did I get enough steps in today?” ‘Does this shirt make me look too fat?”

I want to be present in my life today—not waiting for my body to meet some imaginary standard of worthiness.

Some days I can feel that clearly. Other days, I waver.  I scroll through fitness routines. I consider food rules I swore I left behind (hello, ridiculously high protein intakes).

Those sneaky thoughts of, “maybe if I just try ‘X' this time…

What to Do Instead of Dieting

When those old thoughts pop up, I remind myself: I’m just a human swimming in a sea of diet culture. Of course these thoughts still show up.

And instead of counting calories or jumping into the latest workout craze, I turn toward the things I know will actually help me feel better.

Kindness to my body

This body has done so much with me and for me. She has carried me through illness, joy, grief, adventures.

She created two beautiful humans! (I am still mad how much patriarchy down plays this!)

She’s still showing up every day. I don’t owe her punishment—I owe her care.

Some days, kindness looks like rest. Other days, it’s moving my body in a way that feels joyful. Sometimes it’s just placing a hand on my belly and saying, “Hey. I’ve got you.”

 Listening to my body’s cues

I practice tuning in—not to fix or control, but to hear her.

Am I tired or just overcaffeinated?

Is this hunger or something else?

Do I need movement, quiet, connection, food?

This practice brings me back to body trust—and to living in alignment with my real values: energy, presence, authenticity, vitality.

Because ultimately, that’s what I want: not to follow rules, but to live in a way that feels true to me.

Being a role model for my daughters (or anyone watching)

I want them to see a woman who treats her body with respect—not resentment.

I want them to know that bodies change—and that’s not a crisis, it’s a fact of life.

I want them to see that caring for yourself is an act of strength, not vanity.

And if I want them to be free, I have to keep choosing that freedom for myself—even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.

Practicing self-compassion

This isn’t easy work. Untangling years of messaging, internalized shame, and unrealistic expectations takes time.

So I try to speak to myself like I would to a dear friend:

“You’re doing your best.”

“This is hard—and you’re still showing up.”

“You don’t have to get it perfect to be worthy.”

I admit, some days I still really struggle. That doesn’t mean I’ve failed. It just means I’m human.

And yes, giving the finger to the patriarchy

Because let’s be honest: the pressure to shrink, to control, to stay quiet and small—it didn’t come from inside us. It was planted there.

Every time I choose nourishment over restriction, pleasure over punishment, softness over shame—I’m pulling up those roots. Dismantling something toxic. And building something far more beautiful.

You’re Not Alone in This

If you’re stuck in that in-between place—feeling the pressure to be smaller, while also longing for more peace with your body—you’re not alone.

You’re doing what so many of us are doing: questioning the old rules, feeling your way through the messy middle. And starting to wonder if all that striving is really worth it.

Maybe it’s time to learn what it means to care for your body without trying to control it.

To try something different.

It’s not always easy. But it’s worth it.

Looking for more like this? Try: How Menopause Messes With Body Image and What Do About It