The Metabolic Mutiny
Somewhere between raising children, managing life, and assuming my body and I were on reasonably good terms — now that I eat kefir yogurt and kale — my metabolism quietly rewrote all the rules while I wasn’t looking. I had no idea that as I entered midlife, I was walking straight into a metabolic mutiny.
The hot flushes and mood swings? I expected those — that’s well documented. My husband would probably say I’ve always been a moody git anyway, so how would he tell? But I didn’t expect the disruption to show up in my sleep (or lack of it), my skin, my gut, and the way my body suddenly reacted to foods I’d eaten for the last forty-odd years.
A Word of Warning
This post won’t be for everyone. If you’re of a sensitive disposition, you might want to stop reading here and find something gentler. Try a nice post about manifesting or gardening.
Try this one if you fancy – Manifesting in midlife for the overwhelmed
But if you’re up for a bit of menopausal eczema chat and some gut dysfunction, grab a cuppa and pull up a chair.
I’m going in.
The Pregnancy & Postpartum Reactions
Looking back, the pregnancy years were early hints of the same metabolic mutiny.
After my second daughter, Elizabeth, was born, I ate a lot of cheese. All the cheese I couldn’t eat while I was pregnant.
Lizzie developed a rash, and I developed eczema that started to creep up my spine. I had no idea food could be the problem. I’d never been intolerant to anything before and had no known allergies.
I was told, “Babies get rashes, don’t worry — it will go.” I never even mentioned the eczema I had, and I certainly didn’t link the rash, the eczema, and a food trigger. With a new baby, a toddler, and a hefty dose of sleep deprivation, my mind wasn’t firing on all cylinders. In fact, I think it had run out of petrol and rolled quietly into a ditch.
The subject of the rash came up at a breastfeeding support group. Another mum suggested it could be something I was eating that was passing through my milk. Apparently, dairy — particularly milk proteins — can be a common issue.
Reluctantly, I cut cheese out again. The rash cleared up. And, amazingly, so did my eczema.
That phase passed after about six months, but I learned something important: cheese is best eaten in moderation — not by the wheelbarrow full. At least for me.
Hormones, Babies and Baguettes
After my third daughter, Agatha, came along, life became louder and faster. Two children at school, a newborn, and very little time to think about myself. I lived on salt and pepper baguettes from Tesco and boxes of broken biscuits. The previous reactions to overindulgence — forgotten.
This time, I became intolerant to gluten, and the eczema showed up on my hands and fingers rather than my back. There was a little on my stomach too. It was hard to tell whether Agatha was affected — she didn’t have a rash, but she was a pretty grumpy baby.
I tried cutting dairy again, but I wasn’t eating much of it by then, so it didn’t surprise me when nothing changed. Next on the list were the bread and biscuits. I waved them goodbye, sadly, and the eczema cleared up. Agatha was still a grumpy baby though — you can’t win them all.
That phase took two years to pass. Eventually, I could tolerate gluten again — in small doses. Not two whole baguettes a day and a box of biscuits over a weekend, but enough to enjoy the occasional Marmite on toast or a slice of cake.
Connecting the Dots
That reprieve lasted almost eight years.
Until August last year.
Looking back, the food intolerance’s weren’t random — they were part of the metabolic mutiny. Those earlier episodes had followed big hormonal shifts — pregnancy, then breastfeeding — but at the time hormones never occurred to me as a possible cause. I always assumed it was simply my excessive intake of certain foods that annoyed my body.
This time it was menopause. Another hormonal “shift” — though that word feels generous. More like a nuclear explosion in my endocrine system.
I had already noticed changes with the advent of perimenopause. Favourite clothes felt tighter where they hadn’t before. I had periods of bone-weary exhaustion that felt debilitating. My skin was frequently dry and itchy — especially my legs, which drove me mad. I started carrying moisturiser around with me because the itching was too distracting. I won’t even get started on the hair and wrinkles — LOL.
Anyway, back to August. Small blisters appeared along the sides of my fingers. Itchy, sore, and weepy when popped — which, for the record, you are not supposed to do. But this time I wasn’t overindulging in anything. I’d been eating a healthy diet — lots of vegetables and whole foods. Not whole cakes. Not even whole biscuits. I broke biscuits in half and had one with a cup of tea in an effort to slow the middle-aged spread.
When My Gut Joined the Conversation
Now this is where it gets a bit more yukky. If you’re eating your lunch, you might want to pause here.
Another change I noticed was my digestion. I was experiencing “discomfort” in my tummy more often than not. My bowels were clearly being affected by something, and I was genuinely concerned. Not concerned enough to call the doctor, mind you. Instead, I upped my intake of vegetables. I swapped biscuits for wholemeal sourdough with my cuppa. Fibre is all I need, I told myself.
So, I was eating a lot of vegetables — and I don’t mean in a normal way. I was enthusiastically shovelling in as many vegetables as possible. Five a day was a distant speck in the rear-view mirror, and I was rather proud of that.
My breakfast alone contained at least ten different plant-based foods — usually closer to fifteen once you counted the varieties of nuts, seeds, berries, and spices.
So why didn’t I feel amazing?
It’s a question I’ve thought long and hard about. Why were my hands falling apart? Why was my stomach so painful, and why was going to the loo such a hit-and-miss affair?
Meanwhile, my husband eats whatever he fancies — bread, pasta, fruit, no restrictions at all (apart from not eating chocolate, thanks to a New Year’s resolution he made before he even met me). And yet, like clockwork, he’s absolutely fine.
Jealous? Me?
Yes. I am jealous.
It took me a while to realise that what tied all of this together wasn’t discipline, or willpower, or “doing it wrong.”
The ruler of all my current life issues?
The bloody menopause.
The hormonal upheaval that happens in our bodies really is a gift that keeps on giving. It’s not just night sweats and irritability. Hormones don’t only affect moods and periods either — oestrogen, in particular, has its fingers in many pies. Inflammation. Histamine responses. Gut motility. The microbiome, to name just a few.
And if you’re a bit of a nerd like me, you might have noticed the growing number of studies about our gut “gardens” and the wider realisation that where the poo lives matters far more than we once thought.
Bet you’re glad you carried on reading now?
So, not only does menopause affect your temperature regulation, your mood, your tolerance of stress, your immune system, your hair, your skin, the way your perfume smells on you — yep, this is a thing — and even the shape of your feet (just… WTF), it also affects the way your body reacts to food and your bowel movements. Marvellous!
At this point, if I got run over by a bus or my leg just randomly dropped off one afternoon while gardening, I would assume it was menopause-related! I feel that after a good thirty-five years of periods, interspersed with pregnancy, childbirth, and breastfeeding, it might be time for hormones to just chill the flip out and give me a break.
But noooooo.
The Experiment
After a visit to the doctor — where I was handed steroid cream, steroid bandages to hold what was left of my hands together, and the firm instruction to only use the cream for two weeks — I went home and decided to experiment.
I was convinced this was diet related. I cut things out of my diet one at a time. I kept a food and symptom diary. I ate simply.
It took a few weeks, but gluten appeared to be the culprit again. Slowly, my skin began to heal and grow back. It was thin and delicate, but it felt like hope.
I had another minor flare around Christmas time when I discovered maize and corn were also an issue, which isn’t great because they’re substituted for wheat in a lot of gluten-free foods. This makes food choices very tricky. I now take my glasses everywhere so I can read the tiny print on labels.
Minor Setback
Last weekend, after a couple of calm months, the blisters returned.
I hadn’t eaten gluten. I hadn’t eaten maize or corn. I’d been careful.
This time I narrowed it down to soy bean paste. Red miso, of all things, was the trigger.
Removing gluten, maize, corn and soy from your diet is no small ask. It’s certainly been a challenge to cook a healthy menu for myself without being bored into bland oblivion, and trying not to salivate over the kids’ frozen pizzas or cry over packets of chilli Doritos.
Going back to the poo thing I mentioned earlier — this had been in the back of my mind for a while. Earlier in the week, I’d read a few articles about gut motility and menopause. After I’d finished being annoyed that yet more issues were apparently down to me being “of that age,” I began to wonder whether I’d been looking at things too narrowly.
What I’ve Learned
I’d already linked food to the eczema. But what if it wasn’t just my skin reacting? What if the tummy issues — and even the bone-deep exhaustion — were part of the same picture?
After indulging my hypochondria and diagnosing myself via Dr Google and ChatGPT, I eventually did what any sensible adult does when convinced they’re about to pop their clogs: I called the doctor for a horrendously awkward conversation about poo. Even thinking about it now makes me shudder.
So naturally, I decided the best possible follow-up was to make it ten times more embarrassing and write a blog about it.
I’m not writing this to tell anyone what to eat. The food choices I make are deeply personal — to me, my history, and my particular gut microbiome. I’m writing it because strange, shifting symptoms can make you feel as though you’re losing control of your own body and mind. Sometimes, a different viewpoint can alter the picture.
Yes, sometimes with menopause it’s the obvious hot flushes and mood swings. Sometimes it’s the bloody brain fog that has you putting your car keys in the fridge — and God only knows what happened to your last three cups of tea. But sometimes it whispers across your skin or grumbles in your gut. Sometimes it demands that you pay attention in ways you never have before.
And if that’s happening to you too — you’re not mad. You’re not failing. And you’re definitely not alone.
Perhaps it’s worth being gently curious about whether what we’re eating is helping us — or quietly hindering us. Systems can and do change. For some of us, food can be part of the medicine — and that’s a small piece of empowerment we can hold onto.
Further Reading
Further information on the subject, if you are hungry for more! Dr Louise Newson – Bowel symptoms for menopause