Why being an endomorph feels harder in autumn and winter

As soon as the clocks go back, so does my metabolism. Or at least that’s how it feels when the mornings turn dark and the gym doesn’t have the same appeal. Being an endomorph in autumn is like living with a body permanently prepped for hibernation. I’m excellent at storing fat, less so at burning it. And the irony is that I’m very efficient at feeling guilty about it.

The supermarkets don’t help. By September, the aisles are lined with things that look comforting but usually involve brie cheese, pastry, or regret. Meanwhile, my willpower which was lean and optimistic in June and July is now slumped in the cheese aisle, wondering where it all went wrong. It’s not that I’ve stopped training. I still turn up for all my weekend classes. But my body clings to calories like a squirrel hoarding acorns. Only it’s less cute, and far more strategic.

The seasonal struggle 

By October, something shifts. My appetite grows louder, my gym motivation quieter. My husband calls it “winter prep”. I call it survival. Endomorphs are genetically wired to store energy more efficiently, a trait that served our ancestors (cavemen and women) well but feels deeply unfair in the age of Deliveroo and 24-hour supermarkets.

Then there’s perimenopause, the hormonal disruptor. The hot flushes, the disrupted sleep, the creeping water retention that has me side-eyeing my reflection in disbelief. It’s as if my body’s running its own quiet rebellion and every autumn feels like a battle between biology and discipline, but also between compassion and control.

Movement, motivation and midlife metabolism

Exercise, once my daily sanity, now requires a new level of persuasion. When it’s dark before dinner, I have to outwit my own excuses and get to the gym before my brain has time to argue. Weekend morning workouts help me override that sluggish, carb-craving autopilot. I chase endorphins the way I once chased lie-ins and for a few glorious hours, it works.

Lifting heavier weights than I ever imagined keeps my metabolism engaged and my body feeling functional, even when motivation dips. Zumba continues to remind me that movement is filled with happiness, not a chore and that’s an important lesson when the temptation to hibernate is so persuasive.

“Being an endomorph in autumn is knowing when to push, but also when to pause.”

Midlife has taught me that there are times to build, times to maintain, and times to simply breathe and trust the process. On certain days, my gym wins are measured in ten more squats or an extra push on the spin bike. On others, it’s making it to the living room without tripping over Lego while Cyrus practices his press-ups. Both count.

Mindset and midlife perspective

Winter is a season for reflection as much as it is for layering jumpers. I find that journaling my workouts, meals, and moods creates a pattern I can respond to, rather than react against. Tracking progress, like improved endurance or mood, gives me proof that my body is cooperating.

Accepting fluctuations as part of life allows me to focus on what I can control: effort, patience, and kindness. The rest, such as body shape, is out of my hands. Giving myself permission makes every winter a little lighter, even if my thighs don’t agree.