Nobody tells you that sometimes, your body changes before you even realize it. It’s not always gradual. For me, it felt like I blinked and everything shifted. My underwear fit tighter. My lower belly developed a softness I hadn’t noticed before. My jeans, once reliable staples, turned into reminders that something had changed.
I never saw it coming, not really. I had moved countries, adapted to a new culture, new food, a new rhythm. Add in stress, a new language, and maybe some quiet hormonal shifts I never investigated and suddenly, my body felt foreign. As if it belonged to someone else.
The Emotional Fallout of a Body in Flux
When your body changes, your mind scrambles to catch up. For me, it started with questioning everything: What looked good on me now? Was I dressing for myself, the male gaze, or what I thought was “appropriate” for a woman in her 30’s? My closet turned into a battlefield. I didn’t get rid of my clothes, I couldn’t. They felt like a part of me. But I also couldn’t wear a lot of them. So they sat there, silent reminders of a version of myself I was no longer living in.
Instead, I lived in yoga pants and oversized t-shirts on the weekends. The idea of “style” became confusing territory even though I worked in fashion design, albeit in a different country I was still trying to fit into. Not because I didn’t care, but because I didn’t know where to start. How do you find your style when your body suddenly feels like a stranger?
Why Style Still Matters, Even When Nothing Fits
I worked in fashion. I’ve seen some of the most stylish women wear secondhand pieces with absolute confidence. Size never dictated style, attitude did. But when my own body changed, I forgot all of that. I told myself I lacked creativity, confidence, and money. I gaslit myself into thinking I wasn’t worthy of effort or expression until I “fixed” my body.
But here’s the truth no one tells you; personal style matters even more when you’re in flux. Because style is not about the number on the scale. It’s about the narrative you tell yourself when you get dressed and when no one is looking.
I’m still figuring it out. I don’t have a go-to outfit or magical jeans that hug me just right. I avoid mirrors in gym clothes because I hate how my back fat spills out. Undergarments are a gamble. But I’m learning to dress for who I am right now, not who I was 20 pounds ago.
What Hurt and What Helped
There’s a particular sting when your family critiques what you’re wearing, even if they mean well. “What are you wearing?” or “You should put some color on your lips,” they’d say. I know they weren’t trying to be hurtful but it made me retreat even more. Exploring my style in front of others felt like a risk I couldn’t afford.
But I’ve also seen what’s possible. I’ve had friends who loved their bodies unapologetically, in every size, and dressed like they gave zero f***s about what anyone thought. That kind of self-love is magnetic. And it’s teaching me that style isn’t about perfection but more about ownership.
If You’re in This Too…
If you’re reading this and your clothes don’t fit… if you feel invisible, or like you’ve lost your edge… I want to tell you this:
You are not alone. And this version of you, the one still adjusting, still unsure, is just as worthy of style, pleasure, and visibility as any other version.
You can still be confident. You can still be stylish. Your body is not the barrier. The way you speak to yourself and how you see yourself is.
And when you stop dressing for social acceptance and start dressing for your own comfort and joy? That’s where real freedom begins.
