It’s time to talk about that P word, perimenopause – that transitional space during which your monthly menstrual period is contemplating departure, with no deadline, zero regard for your convenience or comfort, and no clarity on the extent of damage it will cause in its wake.

This is my perimenopause story, well the start of it, actually, and I have no idea when it will end. With perimenopause, one truly never knows.

Unprecedented weight gain

In January 2020, the year in which I turned 40, I weighed 45 kg. Happy days. 

In January 2025, I weighed 52 kg. A seven-kilo weight gain over five years. Not-so-happy days. 

Then came January 2026, and boom! The scale shot up to 60 kg. An eight-kilo weight gain in just one year. 

Weight that crept up and piled on and found me struggling to fit into my clothes. Definitely not happy days. It was the heaviest I had ever been in my life and even several kilos heavier than I weighed on the day before I gave birth.

The moment I saw 60 on the scale, that was quite the wakeup call. 

Because for me, at just five feet no inches and no real curves to speak of, 46–48 kg is the ideal weight range. Anything more means a significant pot belly and extra fat around my face, arms, and thighs.

So, weighing in at 60, what did I do? Off to the gym I went.

Gym journey

From the second week of January, I started working out 2–3 days a week and the weight started shifting. 

It came down to 57 kg within weeks. I was thrilled. Then it crept back up to 58 kg. Then it went back down again. After hovering around 57.5 kg for weeks, it hit 57 kg again at the end of March. 

While getting fitter and stronger and feeling much better than before, and despite working out and eating clean, I was still losing only around 1 kg a month. 

Walking woes

Since January I have been walking on some days as well, but nowhere close to how much I should be walking. 

I can go entire days without clocking even 500 steps. But on good days, it hovers at around 5,000. On those rare better days, close to 8,000.

Yes, I know about the 10k steps recommendation. No, I am not reaching that. I am simply doing my best. Actually no, scratch that; most days I am nowhere near doing my best and I cannot bring myself to do anything about it. 

It is too hot, I am too unmotivated, and I simply cannot. Yet.

I also bought myself a stationary exercise bike (my third in the last few years, don’t ask). We co-exist in my living room and occasionally have brief encounters. I must work(out) on that too.

Clean eating (and drinking!)

Along with the gym routine, I started eating cleaner in mid/late-January. 

As someone who would usually have three main meals and several snacks in between, it was high time to get my diet in line. 

So, what did I do? I bought a Calorie Counter app. 

Did I need it in this age of the internet and ChatGPT? No. But did I get it anyway? Yes. And is it helping? Yes.

Sometimes we think we are eating clean, but it’s only when we start weighing quantities and tracking calories properly do we understand just how off target we are. This certainly holds true for me.

I now focus on protein and fibre a lot more than carbs and keep my meals moderately sized. My rice consumption – formerly carried out in true Sri Lankan-style! – has seen a drastic reduction, while bread has mostly disappeared from the menu and chicken and salads play main roles.

Does this mean there are no cheat days? Certainly not. When I go out, I eat!

As for snacks, there’s Greek yoghurt, nuts, and the occasional handful of grapes.

I’ve also stopped digging into desserts to a large extent and ensure that there are no sweet treats in the house except for some dark chocolate. 

I’ve also started drinking lots and lots of water, tracking intake all the while and aiming for 3 litres each day.

Great expectations

So, with all this discipline and restraint on my end, I understandably expected the weight to melt off. If not fast, at least at a decent downward speed. 

But it simply wasn’t happening fast enough. By this I mean it was not happening fast enough for me. 

My coach was happy with my progress. My clothes seemed happier too. I wanted more.

My mistake? Not taking perimenopause into the equation.

The end is nigh – could take a year, or 10?

With the weight loss plateau (and no period in the month of March to boot), what did I do?

Off to the gyno I went.

He promptly checked out my insides, confirmed my womb was looking fine but my eggs were on the decline, and that perimenopause had begun. He pointed out that this, along with the medication I was on, explained the inordinate weight gain in 2025 and my current weight loss struggle.

He then asked whether the symptoms were debilitating enough to warrant medication or whether I could manage without, so I opted for the latter, as my symptoms are so far limited to night sweats, some joint pain, and the occasional frozen shoulder – all of which are manageable so far.

How long this perimenopause journey will take and what else it will entail remains to be seen. But at least now that I know I am on it, I can manage my weight loss expectations better without feeling so bewildered by the number on the scale.