Knitting for menopause
or, knitting when things are heating up from summer, hot flashes, or human-caused climate change
Menopause (and the years-long perimenopausal transition) has been as defining a period of life for me as puberty and as pregnancy and child-bearing.
Puberty growth spurts can be intense. My teen’s most significant, so far, was six inches in a year. In our family, we acknowledge this change by talking a lot about how it feels to suddenly inhabit a body that is so much bigger than it had been—long legs cramped in the back seat of a car, and legs and arms that sprawl out of a twin-sized bed. When I was pregnant, in 2006, information, advice, and cultural approval was everywhere. Kind smiles from strangers, offers to sit on public transportation, and so many books and so much advice (welcome and unwanted, both).
But menopause? Oof. There’s lots of cultural messages that frame this period of life as something to be avoided and hidden. (I couldn’t even begin to touch how the beauty industry points a fire hose of messages at us to say that our normal, regular, perfectly lovely, just as they are, faces and bodies are wrong for having lines, looser skin, or thinner hair. Go subscribe to The Review of Beauty for helpful counter-messages to that!).
The official list of menopausal symptoms seems straightforward enough—disturbed sleep, anxiety, a slowing metabolism, hair thinning—but they hardly capture the magnitude of how all these things have impacted daily life and self-image for me. I began experiencing perimenopausal symptoms at around age 44. I entered menopause at age 51. I am now about to turn 56, so it’s been a dozen years of managing symptoms, adjusting, and loving this amazing body that, over the last few years, has changed as much as it changed when I was a young teen in puberty.
Today, I want to dive a bit deeper into how I have adjusted my knitting along with menopause because, back when I started perimenopausing, I was unprepared for how fully invisible and uncomfortable it can feel to be in menopause trying to work and just live life. And I think we should talk about it more.
Building community and sharing information is the antidote to feeling invisible.
In my perimenopausal transition and in menopause, the thing that’s surprised me the most is a seeming change in my core body temperature. It’s not that my actual temperature has changed but, rather, I just seem to feel warmer, all the time. Is it metabolic? Extra body weight? A weird permanent flush of heat? It’s not hot flashes (though I get those too), it’s a core temperature thing. For whatever reason, I now prefer breezes on my skin, lighter weight fibers and more ease in my garments. (Had you told my 30-year-old self that I’d eventually prefer sleeping with a fan on me, I’d have been astounded.)
I’ve made a few adjustments to my knitting practice that have helped keep this art and craft I love so much in good alignment with my life, my body, and my wardrobe. Here is my what I’ve learned:
Plant fibers. I started exploring plant fibers with the cotton/linen yarn pictured above. This is my third summer dyeing, knitting with, and wearing handknits made from plant fibers. I’ve fallen in love with some fiber combinations and have learned why I dislike others. I still feel like a plant fiber beginner, but I’ve learned enough to say: if you live in a warm weather climate, if you want to wear your handknits in warmer weather as well as cool weather, or if you’re in menopause (or perimenopause), try knitting with plant fibers. You might fall in love with some of them, too.
More ease in my garments. I didn’t realize that a flowier garment has the added benefit of letting a little bit of air in. Or, if I knit with a sturdier yarn without drape, having extra ease lets the garment sit away from my body at the waist. I used to prefer closer-fitting tops, but adding a bit of ease (while still aiming for a good fit around my shoulders and upper bust) gives me a finished top or sweater that feels stylish and not just big. Where I used to choose a size that would give me zero or negative ease at my full bust, I now routinely choose a size that’s a few inches larger. (I can also recommend flowing garments as good for self-fanning during a hot flash!) I love that, with knitting, I’m making the fabric and fit all at once.
Something covered/something bare. I’ve learned that having something bare helps regulate my temperature. Like the lace panels in my Oolong Tank, or a cropped sweater that only just hits my pants’ waistband, or bare shoulders like the Flying Home top. Even for my fall and early winter sweaters, I will opt for three-quarters sleeves, because that little bit of bare forearm seems to help keep me cooler. Or a v-neck instead of a crew neck. Or cropped pants. Or sandals. The combination of something covered/something bare has been a great solution for me.
How about you? I know there are lots and lots of us, here, who are in the perimenopausal transition or, like me, are fully menopausal. What have been your discoveries? How have you adjusted your knitting and garment making?
I feel all of this SO HARD. Over the last couple of years I’ve been making more tops in silk or linen/silk so I can wear them year round.
Due to poly cystic ovarian syndrome, diagnosed when I was 24, my body and cycles have never been regular or normal. I would go months or years without having a period and then have them for a few months and round and round again. Three years ago, this summer, I was diagnosed with uterine cancer and had a complete hysterectomy. The pressures to not have facial hair, be incredibly thin, etc, are hard for women but spending all of your life not being normal is incredibly torturous. Knitting and reading have in many ways, been my calm for many years. Your words and your yarns are a gift.