After spending a large proportion of this year in hospital and coming out with a feeding tube, life felt completely upside down. I’d gone from running a busy home, juggling work, family and the everyday chaos that comes with it, to suddenly being ripped out of normality and forced to slow down in ways I never expected. When I finally returned home, I felt fragile – physically and emotionally. Getting dressed felt like climbing a mountain some days, never mind feeling remotely like myself.
So I decided to try something small but surprisingly powerful: I started sharing my “fits of the day” on TikTok, which basically means I started sharing my outfits. My most-liked video is a simple one of me in an unremarkable cord skirt, oversized collar blouse and knee-high boots.
It began as a simple promise to myself. Posting a video meant I had to get up, get dressed and show up in some form. It was a combination of accountability, motivation and a way to reconnect with the world again. I honestly didn’t expect it to become anything more. However, TikTok has a funny way of surprising you.
Each video starts the same way, with my tiny bio: “Hi, I’m Jen: fat, flat, over 50 and with a feeding tube.” TikTok is bursting with outfits of the day (OOTDs) fit checks, and women absolutely smashing it with their personal style. There are some brilliant over-50 creators too (FearlessAt50, Fran Bacon, Sally White and Rhian are all fantastic). But there aren’t many who look like me: fat, over 50, flat-chested – thanks to a double mastectomy 18 years ago – and navigating extra health challenges.
I call myself fat because that’s what I am – it’s a descriptor, not an insult. Taking ownership of the word removes its sting, and it’s my way of taking up space unapologetically. For years after my double mastectomy, I hid my flatness behind baggy tops, convinced I had to disguise the shape of my chest or lack of it. Over time, though, I realised I didn’t want to hide. Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with the humble sweater vest (or tank top, if you’re my age!). They make me feel pulled together even on low-energy days.
And here’s the lovely thing – TikTok loves them too. Sweater vest appreciation is strong. Every time I post one, people ask where it’s from and whether I can share more. There’s something deeply affirming about finding others who love the same things you do. Apparently, “granny chic” is exactly where it’s at on TikTok. Who knew? I certainly didn’t. My comments section is full of people who love what I love: bold colours, textures, feminist prints and clothes with proper personality.
For too long, society has made older women, especially fat older women, feel invisible. The fashion industry rarely shows bodies like mine, and social media can make it feel like you’re only “allowed” to enjoy fashion if you fit a certain mould. But that needs to change. Women over 50 account for 27% of all consumer spending, and we’re now the wealthiest and most active generation ever. Time to start seeing that reflected in fashion and online spaces.
I’ve always believed in seeing clothes on real women, with real bodies, living real lives. That’s the inspiration I crave. And funnily enough, younger creators have become a huge source of it for me (Madison Eley, I’m looking at you – you inspired that yellow skirt and top). Their joyful, experimental outfits with zero fear have encouraged me to see my wardrobe differently. I’ve rediscovered pieces I forgot I owned, such as treasured knitwear, tried combinations I’d never have thought of, such as a summer dress with a long-sleeved vest underneath and a cardigan worn fastened as a jumper, and stopped saving “nice” things for imaginary special occasions. There’s something wonderfully freeing about wearing whatever feels good that day, whether that’s a floral skirt, a cosy knit or one of my beloved sweater vests.
As the videos gained views, I started gaining followers too – but more importantly, a genuinely supportive community of nearly 4,500 formed around my fits. They cheer me on, offer styling ideas and leap into the comments the moment someone starts being rude or dismissive. For every troll, there are 20 wonderful people ready to drown them out with kindness. It’s restored a bit of my faith in the internet, to be honest.
And in turn, if my little videos encourage even one woman to get dressed, feel good, or treat herself with a bit more gentleness, then that’s a win in my book.
Jen Walshaw is founder of muminthemadhouse.com
