Resolute

Perhaps you can relate to this: a scenario in which there is much to say but no earthly way to say it in a blog post (or a memoir, frankly). I've hesitated to write because there's no sassy vignette to relay, just the deeply chaotic part of transformation. It's dull on paper. It's brutal to live through. What I can say is that, if you are (un)fortunate enough to meet your limit, chances are your identity is swimming in the dark realm of Hades.

BTW, no one has accused me of being light-hearted these last few months. To give a brief overview of the situation, I've been on medical leave since mid-October for a variety of reasons, the prominent ones being arrhythmia and horrendous pain. The arrhythmia is now under control, though it took a good month (fwiw, I barely leave the house, so loath am I to encounter stimulus). The pain has thrown me for a loop (not that I have that degree of flexibility lately).

You will rarely find a person having chronic pain that doesn't also have a very high pain tolerance because the pain is untethered. Centralized, chronic pain is a different beast than the standard-issue (also potentially intense) acute variety. I think we can all agree, what with science confirming it in recent years, all pain comes from neural interpretation. And when your brain decides to turn everything into a platform for pain, well, it can be torment. The very instrument that defines me, that creates and justifies my identity, seems intent on driving me to near madness. Actually, I don't think it cares if I come near the madness or surpass it. It has a mind of its own which I am handcuffed to. That mind is called fear. Don't kid yourselves, fear is to pain what munchies are to the stereotypical pothead.

What I've learned this time around - and it's taken me almost 3 months to get to this stage (three months of navigating the health system when I could barely function), is that there is no way beat central sensitization without becoming someone new. And it's very hard to become someone new at the best of times, much less when you can't think straight - literally. My very way of being predisposes me to live with something untenable. My style has always been to power through - to be bigger than the discomfort - because, frankly, that's how I define used to define capacity. But that response is as culpable for pain's entrenchment as my genetic make-up or the chance-y spin of the wheel that makes me all of the things I am.

Not to dwell on my symptomology because it's both boring and quite enough to fucking live it, but I manage a variety of co-morbid conditions, which is proving to be a serious pain-provoker in concert with my ruminative brain. On any given day something is bound to hurt - that's just how it goes. But nothing has ever hurt like the pain I started to experience about 6 weeks ago. (Not even broken bones or traumatic childbirth with no meds.) Mercifully, while doing everything non-medical to move out of this phase, I'm on a cocktail of drugs that's masking the pain* but every once in a while it breaks through, even as I sense the inflammatory cycle is running its course. What is left in its wake is fear. Fear of pain that I will not be able to manage, though ironically it's likely the inability to manage fear that's amplifying pain.

This bout has been partly neuropathic, partly muscle-based. Bizarre muscular contraction sensitized nerves which then gave ballast to additional muscular contraction. While in spasm, my left upper leg feels as if it's being stabbed with a knife, routinely. I'm not being dramatic. Note to all: I am also using every non-drug methodology at my access - which is really where I excel in pain management, but Lord, this run briefly brought me to my knees. Fear is the ego of the autonomic body. It will be heard at unspeakable volume, if that's what it takes. And till you dig through the debris of fear, the pain has free-reign. FWIW, this moment is likely being "caused" (inasmuch as chronic pain has known cause) by those delightful osteophytes that line my spine - those unattractive little bone sprus that, statistically, half of you have too, to some degree, by the age of 50, and that you don't even know about because you've never experienced pain as a result.

I recently read the comment of a chronic pain-haver, on describing her unending conditions, symptoms and reasons for said misery, as giving her "pain street cred", a term with which I can relate all too well. I'm kind of an expert so I recommend that you listen to me when I say this: There is no exit until you can identify in what way your bodily pain is the biophysical interpretation of everything, including perceived** (if not actual) non-physical trauma - because your body's perception is all that you require to put you in this dubious club.

By its own estimation, my body has been running daily marathons for years - hypersensitized in just about every way because my inbred response to any fucking stimulus (for example: someone walking quietly into a room where I am sitting) is over-activation of my central nervous system. And just about nothing in my life (which I have created - it's on me) is "stress-lite". You can't hope to eradicate perceived trauma until you can observe it consciously and physical pain is a worthy distraction, in addition to being a learned, ruminative, biochemical response. It's my job to find some way to make it clear to my body-mind that perceived trauma transmuted into pain is no longer a necessary, nor is it a desirable response. I really don't like to admit this. I don't want to believe that my physical pain has any psychoemotional subtext because I'm fucking strong. My brain is powerful. I accomplish.

Pain makes me weak because it scares the fucking shit out of me. It's the final unknown, like death - but probably worse because death is a moment in time. Pain is the encroachment of death in the form of fear. I say this not to clinically depress us all, but to remind my potent sensitivity of its culpability in this cycle. I'm not casting blame, though I definitely judge myself and, yeah, I know that's counterproductive. I'm reminding my sensitive self that its biggest obstacle is also its greatest strength.

I've said before on this blog, generally when referring to New Year's resolutions, that I'd be wise to cultivate some compassion. It's like I didn't get that chip when they constructed my emotional motherboard. Instead, I got a triple of the critical eye. My ability to criticize, specifically analytically, is pivotal to the work I do professionally. It's also pivotal to the way I conduct myself everywhere cuz girl likes her groove.

I am working constantly, on this leave of absence, aka the least fun I've ever had in my life, to become neurochemically and behaviourally different (thanks meditation and CBT and 'script cannabis and traction yoga and pharmaceuticals and supplements and acupuncture/cupping and cold-pressed juice shots and my GP and the specialists I've been seeing and my husband and my mom and my friends and lots of books on the topic and bad Netflix which is sometimes the only thing that keeps anyone going, let's get real). I have no manual for this - engaging with myself under new parameters, working all the angles to find compassion for myself - my original victim - so that I can let go of the relentless grip. I'm hovering in the stratosphere of fear, where the air is paper thin. But I'm also at a moment of great transition, an opportunity for nervous reconstruction - an overhaul. I'm to be reassembled without instruction but according to a noble plan. And as always, my money's on me. I'm a worthy project.

*Alas, these are not drugs that one can take indefinitely. My work these last 6 weeks has been to find a way to decrease the pain (via non-drug formats) while tapering the medication. Note also that I have never before inferred that pharmaceuticals may be a desirable long term solution - which is evidence of the degree of pain I have found myself in of late.

** There are many who have experienced actual physical trauma or who have been harmed by internalized psychological trauma but I use the term "perceived" deliberately. There are some who have lived through war and abuse who do not have chronic pain, perhaps because they haven't somatized it - probably because that's not how they're wired. Or perhaps, credit where it's due, because they've done some hard fucking work.
 

Brief Enlightenment

You may know that I just returned from a week in Quebec and I'm compelled to reiterate what I've pummeled home on Instagram: it was a magically restorative event. There are so many fascinating (to me) tales to relate, and I'm sure they'll come out in time, but one stands out this morning...

On Friday, we returned to Quebec City from Baie St Paul, on a train that goes so slowly that we like to joke that both cyclists and boats both beat it to town in an imaginary race. From there we took a navette from the Chutes Montmorency to the main train station and then we walked 10 minutes to the hotel. This is Scott's annual opportunity to bitch about the cobbled streets (he wheels the cases) while declining, 7 times, to take a cab because who wants to get into another vehicle when you can have some exercise.

Usually, at this point I am very out of sorts. I've been on a zillion forms of transport over 3 hours, my bizarre form of competitiveness has long since set in and I become freakishly determined to "win": I will be first in line (despite that I have assigned seats - cuz who hasn't seen oversold seats?!), I will find the navette's new waiting zone before the little old ladies from the back of the train, I will get the last "bottle" of wine in the cart (though there's a full fridge of them at the back, I suspect). It's tiring. Moreover, of recent years, I am generally also managing some sort of discomfort, if not flat-out pain.

Look, I know myself, which is why I book this vacation down to the very last detail. I know which rooms I will be sleeping in, the minutiae of their views, what the beds feel like. I know the restaurants I'll visit for dinner. I know the routes to all of the fun things, the best way to trespass in all of the places I like to trespass (cuz I am a badass that way). I know the freakin' servers by name at this point.

In case you think this is the most boring form of travel ever (and then you'd be in good company), you should be me for a few weeks. Not only do I loathe excessive stimulus of the type I feel I cannot control (and that's technically most of it), but my day-to-day life is like something out of a film set in insert big city here, all about the chaos of urban mid-life - endless meetings one really shouldn't fuck up, decisions one also shouldn't fuck up, constant activity, stealth parenting, expenditure of every sort, regularly shitty weather. It's like the inverse of a movie set in rural England where the peeps live in a bucolic home, with a trail of fireplace smoke coming from the chimney, looking at their sheep graze the well-tended grounds at sunset.

I'd like to clarify - things are getting much better (and I banked on it that they would - I'm nothing if not calculated about risk). They are changing. I am changing. My home - the backbone of this lifestyle - has changed and continues to do so. I know this is a moment in time, if one that feels never-ending. I also realize that I'm creating a framework that will sustain me, hopefully exceedingly competently, for the rest of my life. Carving out one's reality is a bitch sometimes. I get it. The reason so few people realize their potential, however they define it, is because it takes super-human effort and it's much more palatable to do less now and worry later. I don't want to worry later.

But I digress excessively...

We arrived at the hotel. The room was available. We freshened up, snacked at our local, and started the adventure.

Two things: Walking in a town where you know a lot of things, but not everything, is very adventurous. Everything that deviates from the norm is utterly exciting. Every subtly distinct view. Secondly, my lunch consisted of shucked oysters and good Cava, two things that seriously moderate how I feel like nothing else. When I eat oysters I feel the life of the creature descending within me. It's sacred. I say thank you to each oyster as I ingest because it gives its life to me palpably.

Here's where it gets good: The weather was actually perfect. I have been in the most mercifully low-pain moment over the last couple of weeks (ameliorated still more by my new fave thing, more to come in another post!). Honestly, I felt relaxed and at ease in my body - like I remembered it, before it became so clamorous for attention.

We started to walk up the cobble-stoned streets, up and up and up interminably (as it goes), and I just felt better and better and better. Lord. I felt like Jason Bourne mixed with a superhero whose fingers grow long and sticky to scale buildings. My reflexes became insanely sharp. I was able, as in days of yore, to slice my way through insane crowds without even trying. My spatial reasoning was amazing. I felt totally strong and secure in my body. At no moment was I out of breath and I was bounding up a freakin' hill in a crowd in full sun.

I turned around and Scott, with whom I'm paced well in general, was nowhere to be seen. He couldn't keep up. It was magic! What followed was an hour of walking amidst perfect beauty, qualifying every detail of the profound, almost hallucinogenic, experience I was having. FWIW, Scott did not resist. It was infinitely more enjoyable than listening to me dwell on the nature of pain and existence.

What's amazing about this is that it actually upended my récit de la décennie: that I'm exhausted beyond measure, stressed, over-worked, traumatized and rickety.

I know that, if I experienced this, I can experience it again. It is not beyond the realm of my current corporeal state. Sometimes, when one lives with a lot of pain, it's challenging to remember that one is not broken. It just feels that way.

I don't know who to thank for this amazing moment in time but my gratitude is excessive. I could dwell on the factors that produced the outcome: raw nutrients, a week of quiet, the end of two years of torment, elements of the heat spa, some complement of my 8000 methods for managing discrete styles of pain, 5 of which are always in some form of play. There's a universe (though I don't know how, given the number of potatoes I ate hourly) in which my walking high might have been an outcome of fat-adapted exercise. I've read numerous accounts of this phenomenon and it's always seemed like a suspect state of ecstasy to me but, hey, if that's what was happening, then fat-adaptedness for the win!

I don't really care right now. Cuz when I look back on this trip, I'm going to remember the joyful embodiment of my elegance and strength. And I'm probably going to eat more oysters, natch, cuz one must experiment!

Flashy

One of the more interesting things that's happened in the last 3 weeks - not that I'd call it enjoyable - is that I have learned a thing or 12 about the perimenopausal hot flash. You know this whole midlife hormonal shift thing can be kind of miserable. So many things, that work just fine for so long, all of a sudden, just flip the fuck out. Look, I'm no stranger to night-sweats, which I've been having monthly, for 3 days before my (still clock-like) period kicks in, probably for going on 2 years now - but the hot flash is its own special thing that, till 3 weeks ago, I'd all but not yet experienced. I just assumed that a hot flash is a night sweat that happens in the daytime but apparently that's not the case.

Today I bring you (my younger readers or those who are fortunate enough to miss this) a primer of perimenopausal symptoms. Let's start with the diff between the hot flash and night sweats: Night sweats, causing one to wake in a panic of perspiration after having (seemingly) maintained a nice and normal temp under covers, are really unpleasant. You wake up disoriented, freezing, soaking and feeling gross. Often, the active fix is enough to wake you up for a couple of hours potentially just before day break. And, if this phenomenon happens to you (as it does to me) deep in the PMS hate-on phase, well, it's not so fun for those around you.

Hot flashes, a crystalline metaphor for midlife, are entirely different. For starters, you feel them as they come on (day and night and day and night), not simply in retrospect. FWIW, I asked approximately a zillion women to explain them, prior to my own encounter, but no one has been able to do so to my satisfaction. Here's my kick at the can: What happens - at least to me - is that my interior starts to feel like the molten centre of the earth and then that feeling manages, through some unknown conduit (I mean, maybe it's knowable but I've only been having these for 3 weeks so give me some time!) to make its way to every surface of the skin. My feet - always freezing little blocks - are the harbinger. They heat up as if cozied by coals. It's pleasant until they get so hot that I have to rip off my socks and step on tile. Gradually, I also feel an emerging heat sear in my torso, chest, neck and head. It's a bit like cooking from the inside out. And natch, there is sweating but it's more of a dewy kind than the deluge of sweating at night. Again - you can experience these numerous times, all through the night. They just wake you at the onset (or if they don't, you're unaware on the flip side).

Not that I'm much in favour of either but, on balance, I'll take a hot flash.

When my mother was going through this life stage she was tormented by a few specific things: flashes, mood swings and brain fog. Honestly, the hot flashes made her miserable but, for my money, the brain fog was the most challenging. At one point, my sister and I were vaguely concerned about a diagnosis of early-onset dementia (sorry Ma!). (Note: in the years following menopause my mother's brain resumed its previous and spicy sharpness so I can only assume it was hormones. Also, my sister and I were young and hormonally chaotic in our own right when we were making this assumption, so take from this what you will.)

One of the beautiful gifts of intermittent pain is that it puts everything into perspective. My mother was so unhinged by the hot flashes (she really suffered) and I suspect I might be too if I weren't managing what I hope to be the most significant of my own perimenopausal boulders: pain. Now, my pain is definitely more knowable than it ever has been, but pain is not particularly knowable. It's strange to say this but I am so grateful to have experienced many types of pain on multiple occasions because now, at least, we are acquainted. Pain is miserable but it's ignorable (to some extent) when you disassociate it from the darkest well of fear.

The first time I had the right knee issue, the left foot issue, the left hip issue, the right shoulder issue, the migraines, the searing ear thing (that brings the tinnitus), the myofascial grip of my entire torso - I was fucking afraid. Now when I meet these, and they have all recurred a minimum of dozens of times (if not hundreds of times), I send them my compassion. We're in this together but I have nothing to gain from defining myself by my pain and so I have to accept its presence while fundamentally rejecting it. This sort of mind-fuck is apt to make one quite adaptive.

Youth may be wasted on the young but middle-age gives what it knows we can take. I'm incredibly grateful that, though my memory is not good (never has been, but def it's worse now), my mind is agile. Even as I go through a phase known to unmoor far greater minds than mine, I'm with my self. I know myself.

Other than the night sweats, the hot flashes and the pain, I'm coming through this life phase rather well. Sure, it doesn't pay to get cocky. This post is about expressing gratitude - not poking the bear :-)

I didn't feel, when I was young, that hardship was a force for good. I grew up in a family with a deeply entrenched narrative about luck and worth and I have to say, now I don't believe that good fortune is anything other than just that. It's not a sign of one's familial primacy. You are lucky until you're not and, if you're really lucky, the day you're not does not appear. The next best option is to experience things that throw you into chaos - things that make you think, feel, consider - things that make you stronger and broader and deeper than you were. When you start to understand that this is "good fortune", then you are wealthy beyond measure.

Hard and Fast

Today I woke up, drank some coffee and - before I could talk myself out of it - I went to my bedroom to unpack. I got through 6 boxes, marginal by anyone's standards, but my room is 6 boxes less crowded and (OMG) I found my bra stash.

I wish I hadn't gone out and bought 2 new bra sets, which almost 3 weeks later have yet to arrive from UK, because if there's any human who never needs to purchase another piece of lingerie, I am she.

For starters, by shopping my closet boxes, I now own 10 "new" sets, most of which are fucking GORGEOUS Empreinte styles. Note: I can only fit into 1 size of Empreinte bra (because they don't sister size and the difference between cup and band sizes is so bespoke that it fits or it doesn't). My Empreinte moment, which lasted near a decade, came to an end a few years ago when my body shape changed. Due to a reversal of shape change - I mean, I do not have the shape I did at 35 but I prob have the same general volume - I've got me some fine new bras!

Y'all know I'm more of a minimalist than average (if not at all a true minimalist), but I am SO not down with Marie Kondo. I did not read the book (who needs to, every article on the planet has precis-ed it into oblivion) because I do not like being told what to do. Do I need some lady who's likely half my age to tell me that if something doesn't bring me joy I should chuck it immediately??

Today I put practically all of my clothing at the back edge of the closet because none of it fits. I have suits I spent a thousand bucks on gathering dust because they're a couple of sizes too big at this point. There is no fucking universe in which I'm going to ditch that clothing because I may need it again someday and it's a) very well made and b) stuff I'd prefer not to replace on the basis of potential short-sightedness.

Be mindful of your wardrobe because you are an evolving being and it's every bit as much fun to find new things in your closet as it is to go out and buy or make them. In fact, in some ways it's more fun cuz it's free.

After this energetic spurt, I went to do some yoga (man, that room is a beautiful studio), hand-washed a bunch of things (how I missed my 2nd floor, flat railing that doubles as a clothing rack) and put together my week of supplements (albeit a truncated version of the old regime).

When I went to the rental, I opted not to do any of the regular self-care things I had done prior to the move, which was counter-productive in many ways but, hey, I was struggling. Of course, to counter-balance this, my diet changed radically (which no doubt, has helped my inflammation in the ways that all of the sacrificed elements of the regime do too), but I must be vigilant to side-step pain, and that, my friends, I most certainly have not been.

Since returning to my real house (construction zone though it is), I am back to body scrubbing, supplements, yoga and making my own potions. I did cook in the rental house - and I had a lot of fun re-engaging with that skill. But, not-fun fact, the cabinets in my new kitchen are my greatest reno disappointment - though I'm confident it will be set right, one way or another - because, while the kitchen's super well-designed (by me, I might add) and gorgeous to look at (superficially), the finishing is shit. It's awesome till you try to open the cabinets and drawers and then the flaws become entirely evident. I'm not going to dwell on this because dwelling is my kryptonite, but cooking has been challenging because it means I have to, well, open all the cupboards.

To switch gears, a few posts ago, Barb told me about a new book she read that changed her way of eating. The marketing-forward title didn't grab me - it's called The Obesity Code and it's by a Toronto diabetes specialist named Jason Fung - but I listen to my blog friends so I went out and bought it. People - you have to get this book. If you are the skinniest mini in the land, you still need to read it cuz it's not about obesity. It's about blood sugar stabilization and hyperinsulinemia. Obesity is only one of the many fun symptoms of blood-sugar disease - and all of these symptoms are manageable by getting rid of the highs and lows of blood sugar spikes (caused predominantly by eating fiber-free carbs, straight-sugar and processed foods).

Look, I know, this is an impossible sell. You need to do this when and if a) you perceive you need to do this and b) you are ready, potentially, for one of the worst interim periods you can imagine.

But here's the thing. What I got from this book wasn't all the good intel about hyperinsulinemia. I knew that already. What changed my relationship to food, on reading this book, is that I am no longer afraid of forgoing it. Fasting - a concept you know I loath - has become my friend. I'm now able to understand why I've always hated breakfast, large volumes of food, why I've always felt controlled by eating. The less you eat - and the more those meals are stabilizing by being high in fat and protein - the less frequently your blood sugar rises. Sure, we all need food but we need a fraction of what we generally eat, and 99 per cent of us do better eating that food in specific batches i.e. no grazing, within specified windows of time. Once you get rid of the delicious, delicious, druggy-delicious carbs, you don't feel compelled to eat. And you don't need to eat that much to live very happily, without shaking or feeling sick or hungry.

Never say never cuz I've introduced intermittent fasting into my life - corroborating the way I used to want to eat (cuz food made me feel sick, but I didn't understand that the carbs were fucking up my instinct by fucking with my blood sugar), but never managed to achieve.

And it's so not hard. Really. (Well, it's so not hard cuz I've already done the incredibly hard part.)

I eat between noon and 8pm. I generally eat 2 meals. I do not snack. Snacking just raises blood sugar and makes me feel bad. I don't stress about it when this plan doesn't work out but it usually works out. One of the meals may be a large salad with protein and fat. The other is often straight protein with a side of fat. I drink as much booze as I want (wine, natch) and I don't really want that much lately. Coffee and wine are fine, in moderation, cuz they don't spike insulin. It's easy to cook for this diet. There are many gorgeous meals to be had. It is not in any way restrictive. I mean, I eat a zillion calories of fat per day and it all tastes great.

But again, this nutritional overhaul has happened in phases for me. It's had to cuz I'm so freaked out by change. I do not recommend intermittent fasting (of the many different varieties which the book explores) until and unless you ditch the carbs. With carbs, it's impossible.

I love not having to think about food the way I used to. I love not being compelled by my appetite. I love not having to spend as much time or money or energy eating (I know that sounds weird. I wouldn't have expected this from me.)

I have no idea for how long I'll do this. I'm a human being and my life will no doubt introduce things that may require me to manage my diet differently. I may ditch this altogether and "relapse". Addiction is addiction and, while it's hard to come by fentanyl (for example), we all have to eat and everyone's doing it, out in the open, constantly. My relationship to food is profound, non-negotiable, sometimes joyous and other times horrible. It's an expression of who I am, of where I'm at, of what matters to me at any given life-stage.

That's all I got today.

And Now For A Terrific Story (That, Admittedly, Gets Off to a Slow Start)...

Three months ago my husband went to the doctor and found out his cholesterol was through the roof. In fact, they couldn't even tell him how bad it was because his triglyceride levels were too high to determine LDL levels. (Note: He's one of those stereotypical men who won't go to the doctor more than once in a decade, and then only after being nagged for 5 years by a woman.) But - here's the stupid thing - he'd actually gone for the same tests a year earlier and no one called him back with "bad results" (which is the don't call us, we'll call you policy. Except when they mess it up. Which they did because his doctor died shortly after he came in for the tests more than a year ago and then Scott's file was misplaced.)

Now, one might not worry overly, if one wasn't in one's mid-fifties with a family history of heart disease. Every man on both sides of Scott's family has died of some sort of circulatory heart disorder. Scott's father has had triple bypass surgery. His mother has a pace-maker. Both of his parents have been on mega doses of statins since first they became available on the market. Scott's father actually takes the kind of statin that stops your body from producing cholesterol AND the kind that stops your body from absorbing it. And his cholesterol is still high. 

Y'all also know about my feelings about statins. I am really down on them. Everything I've read points to evidence that a) you need cholesterol to keep your brain working throughout the span of your life b) you need it to keep sex organs happy and c) you can have high cholesterol (even VERY high cholesterol) and it needn't impact artery hardening or width, though it can, of course, in a subset of patients. I predict that statins will eventually be known as the drug scam of the early 21st century. Only time will tell if I'm right or wrong.

Of course, I'm not unrealistic. I know that my husband's medical treatment is not my call. I also know that when you've got family members dying at the Xmas table from heart attacks (no joke), you don't take a light approach - unless, perhaps, you happen to be the kind of person who doesn't bother to go to the doc despite your family history.

However, statins weren't on the table after Scott's initial visit because they couldn't determine his LDL levels. The doctor read him the riot act and told him to get 150 minutes of exercise per week, cut down on booze, cut down on sugar, cut down on saturated fat and come back for another test in 3 months. He also said: Then we'll put you on statins. The guy was something out of the Canada Food Guide.

At first Scott was pissed. I mean, our lives have been unpleasant enough over the last 18-months. To cut out everything fun and find time to exercise was not a welcome prescription. But he realized that we haven't been going through drama and hell to make our lives luxe and sexy, only for him to die prematurely from complications of high cholesterol.

In true Scott style, he just decided to give it his all. He went from arguing with the doc about not having time to exercise (and he really doesn't right now) to somehow getting an average of 250 minutes of really vigorous exercise per week. On my watch, but driven by his own goals, he gave up all grains (except for half an english muffin in the am), sugar (english muff doesn't get jam and coffee is cream-only!), most starchy carbs, all but 1 G&T a week and all processed foods. He opted to increase his vegetable consumption by 1000 per cent and I am not on that bandwagon with him. (Note to reader: The only thing I can eat right now without feeling like I'm going to throw up is hot dogs, no joke. So I'm no role model.) I also bamboozled him into taking fish oil and a probiotic.

That's all he did. He's still massively sleep-deprived. He's more stressed than he's ever been in his life. He's currently a workaholic by necessity. He's continued to eat 20 oz of steak at a sitting and all the meat, daily, with skin and fat on it.

Yesterday he went back to the doc to find out the results of another blood test he did last week. The doc was blown away - like stunned. Effectively, Scott has managed to eradicate generations of family predisposition in 90 days without taking a drug - unless you consider supplements and food to be drugs. His every level is now in the range of normal. Seriously, the guy went from being borderline diabetic (and he didn't even know it) to being cholesterol-normal in 3 freakin' months - which would be impressive for anyone, much less someone with family history who's working 14 hour days, sleeping 4 hours a night and doing the work of 5 people. Oh, and he lost 10 pounds (and he wasn't overweight to begin with).

In the words of my mother: Just goes to show you can eat a marbled cow weekly and still bring your cholesterol levels down - if you're willing to give up sugar.

Other note to reader: My mother's had the best diet in the world forever and she still can't bring down her cholesterol by eschewing sugar, so I'm not suggesting that Scott's results represent everyone's potentiality.

I'm writing to tell any of you who are on the fence - and no one was more on the fence than my husband: Before you go on statins or medication for type 2 diabetes or the myriad other drugs with potentially deleterious side-effects you'll prob have to manage on the flip side - give up sugar and grains for 3-6 months. Scott didn't even give it up entirely. I mean, he still eats fruit and drinks alcohol and he has that freakin' half english muffin every freakin' day. Of course, follow the advice of your doctor - though know enough know to when your doctor isn't giving you good advice - but, just for kicks, take the sugar and processed foods out of your diet and see what happens.

It could make every difference in the world or none at all. But you won't have the vaguest idea unless you try.

From Pain to Equilibrium: This Really Is A Thing

A few peeps have emailed or commented to ask about how my “anti-inflammatory-esque lifestyle” is going, whether the pain is gone. I figure, at this point, I should approach the question more holistically than nutritionally because, while I understand my body differently, with more nuance in each passing month, I cannot attribute improvement to just one approach.

The thing about chronic pain (intermittent or otherwise) is that it often isn’t caused by one factor – and it’s generally resolved (or managed) by many solutions that take years to parse together. I’ve been on the anti-pain scavenger hunt for a few years now. In retrospect, I know I’ve had musculo-skeletal and nerve pain since childhood and it went entirely unheeded, because I didn’t understand what was happening and adults don’t assume that children are in regular pain. Then it went away, but would routinely recur in one form or another in my 20s and 30s– frequently in neck and head. Then I got pertussis in my early 40s and, man, that fucked me up. I’ve been dealing with the fall out ever since. Add some mid-life hormonal chaos into the mix and there’s my own personal factoral soup. (Note: It’s way more complicated than this but you get the gist.)

I spent the first 4 years of my pain-management experience focused on bio-mechanical fixes, diagnostics, body-work and supplements. The ones that have been infinitely most useful, depending on the day, include my Yoga Tune-Up balls, my acupressure mat and pillow (the bed and head of nails, as I call them), vitamin D, collagen powder, massage, acupuncture and my self-devised body-work plan (which focused initially on therapeutic yoga, traction/hanging, breath-work and fascial release).

I’ve spent the last year focused on diet, with the express aim of reducing systemic inflammation, specifically as I now know I have non-negligible osteoarthritis which is thought to be motivated by my genetics and a family history. Oh, and I’ve also given a lot of attention to neuroplastic techniques for pain reduction, which is more of a mental-shift than wholesale new activity, because all of my body-work is fundamentally neuroplastic.

Each of these things has reinforced the others while numerous other approaches seem to have had no impact, so they have been abandoned. It’s impossible to say whether – in the last year - a critical mass of techniques has finally started to yield more significant improvements than ever before, but I do believe that the dietary changes have been key. Mind you, so have all the others, as far as I’m concerned. The thing is, I may get a massage once a week but I eat multiple times a day. So I do think diet has created a kind of pathway to cohere all techniques – a metaphoric service tunnel in the house that is my body/mind.

Having said this, I still can’t quantify exactly how I am improved. I still experience pain and sometimes it is severe. I still crave sugar and that is emotionally very difficult. I’m still stressed out by all of the things in life that stress all kinds of people.

So what’s changed?

I’m glad you asked! What hasn’t changed? I’m older, I’m wiser, I’m more aware of interdependencies (of biochemical and other varieties). I now know why it is believed that I have pain (a diagnosis) – though I’m so naïve that I don’t realize there are many people with infinitely more gnarled skeletons than mine and they feel little or no pain. I have also come to understand how a mechanical issue (jaw malocclusion) has had rather significant impacts on my ability to sleep, breathe and pretty well do everything else one does with one’s mouth. I now have a bespoke mouth gizmo to undercut the negatives but I may need to get more extreme about the medical dental devices in the future.

There are people who spend less time on their careers than I’ve spent on my pain condition and I still have pain. But I’m less afraid of it than ever before because I don’t feel like it’s controlling me anymore. As we know, pain is something that happens in the brain, not in the muscles and bones and fascia and joints and nerves. Sure, all of those things express the impact, but the source of this issue is the best place to target it. I do believe that the huge shift I’ve undertaken – the essential flip in my ingestion of carbs and fat – has helped my brain tremendously but not in the ways you might expect. I don’t think my memory is any better. I’m still anxious (and BTW, I in no way begrudge my anxiety – it makes me who I am and I know it’s as protective as it is antagonistic). Anxiety is also comorbidly associated with pain – as are many of the other conditions I just naturally happen to have been born with. If ever there were a candidate for chronic pain, I am that individual. But I am mercifully introspective. My sensitivity and my intelligence (note: I’m not going to underplay this - I’m smart and I own it) have given me so many mechanisms for improvement. I feel everything, physical and otherwise. I feel all of the bad and all of the good. I feel it deeply and broadly and incisively in ways that sometimes threaten to smash me up. But my awareness will also fix me. Mark my words.

Somehow, stopping the sugar/grains/processed food, limiting the booze and legumes and amping up the fat has made me better able to understand the contingencies between my body and my mind. I feel the gear shifts in my brain that bring about the gear shifts in my body. And they are so calibrated, so nuanced, it’s bizarre. For example, eating fat has somehow allowed me to understand (convolutedly, of course) that I have to be less active than I’d like. Sure, I can do vinyasa yoga with the best of them but it’s not good for me. It looks good but it brings pain that lasts indefinitely because I by-pass all of the warning triggers that my biochemistry is sending. I’ve used body-work just as I’ve used sugar – as a numbing agent. If I don’t want to be in pain, I have to listen. I have to slow down. And that’s something I don’t do naturally. I’m not wired that way and it’s very hard for me, to vastly understate it. Fat curtails my natural impulse to act constantly. It’s soporific. For some people, that’s not helpful. For a person who is compelled by everything -it may be a saving grace.

I have one other ace in the hole. Another tactic that's vastly changed the pain situation for me, but I'm not going to discuss it on the blog. If you suffer with pain, you're a regular reader/I know you, and you'd like to reach out, feel free to email. What I will say is that, like fat, it targets the pain where it lives, and - along with the dozens of other things I do on a daily basis - it's been a game-changer.

Am I cured? No. Am I on the road? I suspect yes. I mean, if nothing else I am INFINITELY less puffy and I can wear my rings for the first time in 3 years. That's an external sign of reduced internal inflammation, which will eventually lead to reduced pain, I can infer. Moreover, when I have pain (even pain that would probably floor most people), I can generally live "normally" i.e. go to work and work hard. My family life, my non-work energy, definitely takes the hit, but no one said balance is easy.

So that's my update on this topic. I welcome any questions or comments - cuz sometimes these days, despite stats that prove I have many wonderful readers, I do feel like I'm blogging in a vacuum...

Monitor

So back to the food lifestyle (i.e. my sustainable version of the anti-inflammatory protocol diet), I've done something nutty even by my own standards: I bought a glucose monitor. Look, I didn't online-shop this one. I went to the pharmacist and told her my rationale (see below) and she suggested that, while she's never had a non-diabetic person purchase a glucometer, sometimes doctors do prescribe them to their patients when they're trying to figure out blood sugar things. Apparently, I could have got a prescription and the device would have been free. It was worth the 75 bucks to me to avoid having to spend 1.5 hours getting to, from and waiting for the doctor.

The Rationale: I've been wanting to confirm what's going on with my blood sugar for, like, 10 years. When I say I believe I have a hair-trigger response to food - and more specifically to not eating food regularly enough or in the right way - I'm not being glib. I've observed this multiple times a day for as long as I can remember. It's only in the last 3 months that I realize I ate simple carbs to forestall nausea (which is recurrent every few hours and not the result of stress - trust me, I'm an expert on my stress-response), shaking, tachycardia (I have SVT), headache and deep irritation followed by the kind of hunger that is desperate for sugar in a way I cannot describe (like drug addiction drive). My mother took me to the doctor for this when I was a kid and it was determined I had hypoglycemia (a diagnosis that seemed out of whack). In retrospect, I think it was idiopathic post-prandial syndrome but there's no way to know until I have a better sense of my blood sugar levels after fasting, before meals and after meals.

I can say that the one thing that's different in the last 3 months is that I eat a ton of fat and few simple carbs. My protein intake is about the same. I've gradually increased my fat intake to, oh, 60 per cent of my diet - healthy fats - and I am much less shaky. Yeah, I suppose this is ketogenic but that's not my goal. I'm just trying to find a way to eat that makes me feel stable (bizarre concept peeps) and, on experimentation, this has provided the best response to date. When I start to feel shaky - because I am really resistant to eating regularly and I do believe this is learned/habitual - I eat a tablespoon of fat (fish oil, mct oil, coconut oil, avocado oil) - yeah, out of the bottle, and it buys me a little bit of time to find food without nausea or shaking. I can see that my consumption of alcohol, while not motivated by low blood sugar levels, works to keep them stable in the absence of food, or the presence of small amounts of food. (Update: Actually, today I learned that booze lowers my blood sugar levels to the very lower edge of the normal level. I do appear to have lower than average blood sugar at certain times of the day.)

Let me be clear right now - I am acting as my own experimental subject. Needless to say, I am not suggesting that anyone else do what I'm doing. This is the latest step in an engaged conversation with my own biochemistry and it comes on the heels of many years of introspection.

But back to the monitor...

For starters, you practically need a higher degree to figure out how the fuck to use this thing (which is actually multiple bits and pieces). Don't worry - there are videos and tons of guides. I'm not one of those peeps who gets as much from reading instructions as I do from looking at all of the moving parts and independently figuring out how they go together. But this requires reading.

Also, everyone I've told about this (I've been planning this purchase for a while), thinks I'm insane because you have to lance your finger with a tiny needle (to get a drop of blood, which is how the blood sugar is tested). Let me make this perfectly clear: If that freaks you out, don't do it. I am in no way afraid of needles, blood or pain, though my preference is not to inject things, cuz that's creepy. There are so many people in this world who have to undertake this monitoring process multiple times a day and they manage elegantly. For me, to test my blood sugar 3 6 times a day for a few days is entirely baby-style so I don't intend to make something out of it. I can assure you, lancing barely registers on the pain scale. Barely. (This isn't to suggest that diabetics don't have a rough road because testing 7-8 times a day, life-long, is a totally different story and one I'm happy not to have to entertain.)

I just started this morning and I'll keep you posted, though I can appreciate my blood sugar levels are probably the most boring thing imaginable to anyone other than me. I do love that we live in an age where this monitoring is possible.

Kristin's Coconut Milk Hot Chocolate

Let me leave you with a hot chocolate recipe that I "made up", not that hot choc recipes are rocket science. It's SO insanely delicious, you might want to drink it every day. It's fab for curtailing hunger and moderating anxiety because the fat involved (medium chain fatty acids, from coconut milk) goes straight to the brain where it can be used as an alternative source of fuel to glucose. Also, the cacao (or cocoa) powder contains cannabinoids which get together with your brain's endocannabinoid receptors and produce the most fantastic sedative effect. But really, all that aside, it's really stabilizing for those of us with the hummingbird metabolisms.

• 2 tbsp unsweetened cacao or cocoa powder (use the good stuff and avoid dutch-process), mix with a bit of water to create a smooth sauce. Use fork or small whisk.

• 1 can (798 ml) coconut milk - use the kind from BPA-free cans, organic, pref without guar gum. Put the cream in a saucepan. Discard the liquid. Add a bit of water to re-liquify the cream. Don't use too much because the cream will thin as it warms. You can always add more water later.

• Pinch salt (smoked is good)

• Tsp vanilla extract (the real stuff)

• Tsp maple syrup - use the least amount of syrup you can while still getting with the taste. It should not make the coconut choc mixture sweet. The taste should be neutral between the bitter, salt and sweet, but not more bitter than you can stand. What you're looking for is richness, not sweetness.

Mix all of these together and stir till silky and lump-free on low heat. When it heats to point that you can see steam, turn off mixture and leave for 10 minutes to cool and cohere. Then turn back on - again on low heat - and wait till it comes almost to a boil. This will give a very silky, glossy texture to the choc. The texture should be what you like - so add water as necessary. I use very little water cuz I like it to taste like Mayan hot chocolate (really dark, bitter and thick). You may not be able to drink the full amount (which comes to about 8 oz). I don't have an issue with this but do keep in mind that it's somewhere around 500 calories of saturated fat. It's really good fat but, if you're eating a lot of carbs in your diet, you shouldn't overdo it with this. Fat plus simple carbs (sugar) equals weight-gain in many. If you eat very few carbs / sugar, you can make this part of your daily diet - though you may want to talk with your doctor if you have high-cholesterol.

You will know pretty quickly if it's not right for you. It'll seem too fatty and rich. If it works, you'll feel fantastic very quickly and it will not seem fatty at all. Also, you may need to adjust to the relatively low sweetness if you're used to eating chocolate sweet.  1 can use 1/2 tsp maple syrup before it starts to taste like dirt (though it's a pleasant, ground-like taste). Some peeps are put off by it. You can always add a bit more syrup, half-tsp at a time, to get to a place that works for you but be very discriminatory.

This is perfect as breakfast (you can prep it the night before and store in fridge in the saucepan for next morning) or dessert or meal replacement (on occasion). If you're one of those people who can't eat once you get shaky, you will prob be able to stand this because there's no chewing involved and it's taste-neutral. If you are anxious, it will calm you down. Trust me. In a rare few, the high-concentration of cocoa/cacao may make you actually high, so I've read. I can attest to the fact that my brain is very happily responsive to chocolate, hence my daily consumption going on 25 years.

Today's questions: Have you ever monitored your blood sugar with a glucometer? How did it go? Do you love hot chocolate made with coconut milk? Have you ever tried a low-sugar, high-fat, high-cocoa version like the one I've suggested above? Let's talk!

PS: I've posted a photo of the hot choc on my Instagram page in case you want to see what it looks like.

Interpersonal Game Theory

My trickiest task as a writer is to stick to the topic at hand. I'm so parenthetical in real life, it's hard not to be tangential on the page. And given how infrequently I blog these days, I want to put it all out there!

No mind, I'll do my best not to wander.

A number of people have asked me how I'm adjusting to the move (and the fact that the tear down starts on April 3). I don't know how to answer this question because, in any given hour, I feel 6 different ways.

Sometimes I'm very pleased by the spaciousness of this new house - and, really, it's spacious. The neighbourhood is totally different, even as I'm quite familiar with it because it's only a 25-minute walk from my "other house". It's much more of a hub than I realized before I moved here. And I love that. I just wish I didn't feel so annexed. Ha! You know you're a true urban-dweller when a place with a few trees and some stand alone houses (not too many) throws you over the edge. If you want to hear my latest first-world issue, it's that my commute time has doubled. Yeah, I know that most people won't cry for me given that 15 minutes (by public transit) has turned into half an hour. But that means my walk to work is almost not doable at this point, unless I leave an hour for it (not that I've had any time to walk to work in months). And the 15-minute walk from the current house to the subway is along a wind corridor. So inclement weather is a bitch. The other issue is that I pick up the subway further east than I used to. Which means that it's almost impossible to get on a train between 8 am and 8:40 am. The train is just too packed by the time it gets to my new stop (think Tokyo). Look, I knew this would be the case and I'm getting with it. But I can't say that it makes the weekday mornings fun.

As for the impending deconstruction of my home - well, I'm just not thinking about it. This is the usefulness of marriage. One can ignore the unthinkable.

On another note, I made the decision last week to leave the job I've been doing for the last 8 months. (I will return to my former role.) The decision was complicated - my current role was a promotion, the subject matter endlessly fascinating (and, by any estimation, very important). I'm not going to devolve into details, but this is relevant because it gives a bit more context to the, ahem, rich tapestry of transformation in which I find myself currently. In part: I cannot work 60 hours a week (at a relentless pace) while also managing a degenerative disease, a family life and a major home renovation. Coming to grips with my limitations, at this middle-aged time of my life - the time when career push may well have meaningful professional and financial impacts for the future - has been humbling. No question, my ego and my confidence have taken a hit. But I'm sure as hell not the first person that's encountered this sort of dilemma so I'm keeping it real. Not many people have the options I do and I'm incredibly grateful to be able to be able to turn this particular train around. There will be another and that journey/destination will be the right one at the right time.

You see what I mean about the tangents.

If you can believe it, this post is neither about home nor work, but about sugar/systemic inflammation. I know, way to fuck with you! I've been doing this lifestyle diet thing for 3 months, and I thought I'd talk about how it's impacting the way I look and feel. To clarify, I don't have a scale so it's going to be tricky to tell you that I've lost a certain amount of weight, though intriguingly, I did get weighed at the doctor's, right before embarking on this plan, because they needed accurate weight to determine sleep-testing parameters. I'm sure it's on file. So maybe I'll ask about what my new scale-weight is next time I'm there (which is all too often these days).

I'm looking for the book with my most recent dimensions but it's nowhere to be found, unsurprisingly, so I went to my latest online measurements (stored in the Custom Fit database, though from when I can't remember cuz I forgot to note it in the data set) and recalculated on that basis. It would appear that my dimensions have all decreased in size. My waist is 2 inches smaller, my hips - never a place where I gain weight - are also an inch smaller. My full bust measurement has decreased by an inch and I note my bras are not fitting in the same way. Fortunately, I have bras in EVERY size and I'm in no way hard-pressed to restock. My under bust measurement is down 2 inches and my over bust measurement has decreased by 1 inch. I mean, when one loses an inch from the biceps, that's notable. I don't have lower body measurements to call on at the moment but, from the way my clothes are fitting, I suspect I've lost a reasonable amount of circumference in the upper thighs and derriere. This is where weight deserts me first. Actually, weight leaves my face first and many have commented that my face and neck look "very dewy" or "refreshed". Those closest to me have said, point blank, that my face and neck look much thinner. Don't worry, if anything's aged me by 10 years it's all the shit that's going on around me, not the loss of a few inches. :-)

Note: It's possible that this dimensional shift is caused by loss of muscle mass, given how little movement I've had a chance to do lately, but I am being exceedingly careful in my dietary choices to avoid that potential outcome. I consume more than enough calories (I believe, not that I've been keeping a count lately, no time) and most of them are from fat and protein. I will say that I'm frequently nauseated and I often don't like to eat, but again, I think that's as much about my emerging relationship with food as anything.

Note that I have managed a house move (a huge stressor from my perspective) and a job shift within the same week and I did not stray from the "healthy lifestyle" path. This proves to me that eating for emotional reasons is a very useful technique - which becomes all the more palatable when one opts to forego that path. Oh well. Let's chalk it up to skill development.

I don't feel as if I've returned to my optimal/comfortable size and shape - that which preceded the transition of perimenopause - but I'm moving in that direction. With some time to exercise, I suspect it's within the domain of possibility within the next few months. This is very encouraging though I'm not one to count my chickens.

So I'm here to tell you, if you wonder whether giving up a vast swath of the foods you enjoy will make a meaningful difference to mid-life weight gain, the answer is definitively yes. Sorry, I have no good life advice to get you from here to there. There's no fucking way in hell I'd be doing this if not to reverse and delay serious pain and its root cause. And I'm seriously vain.

On the topic of vanity and middle-aged weight gain, I can attest to the fact that, once that weight goes, one does look younger in the frame (if not in the face, for some). And I, for one, look infinitely less frumpy.

But how do I feel?

Well, this one's hard to contextualize given a few factors: it's the end of winter (generally when weather and dampness have been at their worst for longest and my pain reacts badly to those), I'm beyond stressed and I'm in the midst of a variety of treatments (jaw related specifically). I've also not done yoga (in any meaningful way) in almost 3 months. Partly this is about lack of time but it's also my decision to step back to unlearn some of the body-memory that may be limiting me in improving pain with yoga. Yoga is soon to be reinserted into the equation.

I definitely feel different, though to quantify it is currently challenging. I feel lighter (which no doubt has diminished some of the physical stress on my stressed-out skeleton). I'm also more able to discern what's happening with my blood sugar at any given moment. Lord, if there's one thing you do for yourself this lifetime, go through the misery of giving up sugar (and it's HORRIBLE) - at least for a couple of months, so that you can learn what it is to be at odds with your blood sugar. When you can stabilize your blood sugar, you can function with so much less effort. Note: It's sadly dull. Be warned.

Recently I told my mother how, all my life long, I used to routinely forego food until I felt that sick tug of shakiness and omnipresent craving because that's how I liked to feel when I started to eat. She was shocked and horrified. I had no idea that this wasn't a normal approach. Disordered eating can sneak up on you, peeps, and it can happen independent of those big ticket ailments like anorexia or bulimia. Just sayin'. Having gone through withdrawal, I really do wonder the degree to which those with big ticket conditions experience said conditions, in part, because their brain chemistries are fucked up beyond belief because of uneven blood sugar.

I've read that eating in an anti-inflammatory fashion (and I'm doing this in a modified way, in no sense extremely) can take up to three years to do its systemic damage-control. Most people do start to feel better within 3 months, but three years is a long time to hover in the brink. I don't see that I have much of an alternative right now, except to embrace this choice as a meaningful enabler of my future health. In a worst case scenario, it'll have been a really dry few seasons.

I will say that my tinnitus is still all too there and I have times of bad pain, though it's somewhat less systemic-feeling than it has been and it doesn't linger as endlessly.

So that's all the news that's fit to print today. Hope your weekend is going well. Peace out.

Last of Summer

It's not particularly warm here this weekend. OK, in truth, it is September and I did just experience the hottest summer in memory, so a daytime decline from 37C to 24C seems very painful. But we wake to 18C, a sad reminder of the trajectory we're on. I should say that it's gorgeously sunny - the kind of weather most people drop their jaws at - and it is expected to warm up again next week. The air show, which I mention annually (and which I'm fortunate enough to see perfectly from my third floor terrace), is silver perfection against an azure backdrop. I'll get to see it 3 days in a row from the comfort of my home. I love the air show.

There is no sewing or knitting going on here at the moment. Actually, this is the least crafty I've been in 6 years. But I view my new work venture as a creative undertaking and I am most definitely applying my skills to it. Instead, what I do (when I'm not working) is read. Reading used to be my salve - particularly fiction. (I was an English Lit major, after all.) A few years ago, at the blog advent, I went from reading multiple novels a week to reading online only. And, for some reason I do not comprehend, fiction ceased to interest me at all. Truly, I could hash out ANY book with you 10 years ago. These days, I don't even know who the fiction writers are. I still have not returned to it (though I'm sure I will one day, when I have a bit of time to savour). Right now everything about my life is applied. I read to figure out how to do something, to make something, to vet something, to classify. So my genetic test results have kept me happily engaged, as do the blogs. I've also been reading a number of books with a health-meets-culture/philosophy/historical perspective.

I highly recommend 2 television shows that you should watch if you want to be riveted and entertained but also educated:

Michael Mosley's Make Me Series (particularly Live Forever) and The Truth About Exercise. I LOVE this guy. He's so relatable and the pacing is great. His interest in health is well-entrenched. Not only is he a doctor-turned-television presenter, but his father died of a heart attack at a very young age and, as a result, Mosley has been exceedingly intent on detangling his own health predispositions since then. He openly discusses, in one of these series, that he's skinny-fat and prediabetic (despite gym exercising, which does nothing to improve anything for him). He and his smartie team of scientists test him out a zillion ways and apply theories to his health-care regime. They analyze his blood and predict that he's not in the best positioned to gain positive results from the kind of exercise programs we're all encouraged to undertake - largely because his genes predispose him to gaining very little aerobic benefit. He then devises and tests a high-intensity (but very short) fitness regime, the results of which are fascinating. I pretty well love everything this guy has ever appeared in - prob because I find him so intelligent (and he's a questioner, just like me!) - but also because his interests are mine. These shows aired originally on BBC in UK. I think they may be avail on the internet now. I saw them on TVO or PBS.

Redesign My Brain with Todd Sampson (a Canadian-Australian). It took me a while to get into this because I have a very low tolerance for scary things on TV - and this guy uses neuroplastic techniques (on top of a very robust genetic profile and previous elite athletic accomplishments) to do some crazy-ass shit. 2 of the 3 episodes involve heights. It is MIND-BLOWING what this guy can accomplish in a few months. Sure, he won the genetic lottery on all the fronts, but you will be amazed nonetheless. If he can do these things with relatively minimal, but intensive, training over a few months, what things could you be doing (if slightly less spectacle-focused)??

Both of these series have that Kristin-approved well-funded-scientist-meets-challenge format. If you've seen these shows I'd love to know your thoughts! If you haven't, take some of this long weekend to curl up on the couch with popcorn and a glass of wine (or nuts and a green juice). Your choice. :-)

In Which I Go On (and On) About Genetic Testing

About 6 weeks ago, I finally took the plunge and purchased DNAFit testing to learn more about my genetic predispositions re: fitness and nutrition. It's expensive so I dithered for a while (cost me @$450 CDN and that was right after Brexit). It also took a long time to get the results, longer than it should have, because my kit got lost in the mail and there were potential postal strike issues here (just resolved). Theoretically, one could get results within 3 weeks - from start to finish, maybe even faster if you're in the UK. You order, wait for the kit, take a scrape swab (2 minutes worth of effort), post it back, wait for it to get back to UK and then wait @10 days for the reports). My online results finally arrived 2 days ago. It'll take another week for my fancy dossier to arrive (but I suspect that info will mimic what I can now see online).

For starters, I totally recommend it. The industrial design of the kit alone makes it worthwhile! (OK, joking, but just sort of.) The information I've received is substantive, but I will say that you should plan to invest in the additional (@$175 CDN) post-report consultation* unless, like me, you enjoy doing research. The way results are positioned in the reports is very neutral, for many good reasons. But I want to know what my specific polymorphic variations mean for me, especially when considering how propensity, indicated by one allele combo (from one gene), influences another. So much of predisposition is about how the moving pieces intersect.

I don't need to tell you that I'm no scientist. (Sorry, Scientists, if I'm butchering the concepts!) But I've done as much extra research as one can (in 2 days, with a new job) and I'm amazed by what I've learned independently, now that I have the raw data to work from. Furthermore, my naturopath is also reviewing this info in conjunction with my latest blood tests, hormonal panels and spinal radiology report. Between this and my new yoga rope wall, I've got some tricks up my sleeve!

I'm well aware that this post is the very definition of first-world solipsism but, as I like to say, it's my blog so I'm going there. Furthermore, as the DNAFit people like to say, like on every freakin' page, your genes won't change but your lifestyle can. Genetic propensity is merely an indicator.

The Good Things I Learned

It's always nice to lead on a strong foot so here are some rather meaningful "pros" I discovered:

• I don't have the gene variation associated with celiac disease. What I mean is that I can happily digest gluten.

• I do have the gene variation associated with being able to digest lactose. Which I could have told you. Cuz I love me the dairy and it doesn't give me any issues.

• Middle-agedness aside, I have low "fat sensitivity", which means I'm not genetically predisposed to obesity or to the metabolic syndrome that often accompanies it, particularly if I keep the carbs complex and the saturated fat in check.

• I strongly skew, fitness-wise, towards endurance (volume) - not power (intensity). Maybe that's why I can walk around for 12 hours a day, covering miles and miles, while I'm on vacation.

• My profile predicts a tendency towards intermediate VO2 max (aerobic) capacity. Alas, I'm never going to make any use of this one - running ain't happening! - but it's nice to know.

• I have a genetic predisposition to recover from exercise rather quickly with minimal inflammation. In fact, there's nothing in my profile that shows an increased likelihood of inflammation related to immune response.

 More Complicated Things I Learned

• I have sodium sensitivity which could lead to hypertension (though I believe, from my own research, that I have other gene variations that protect me from this). Nonetheless, as per the advice from every medical association in the land, I should limit my salt intake to 5.5g a day (whatever this means). This is a real issue because a) I love salt and b) I especially love it when I'm stressed and c) I seem to be stressed much of the time. I don't have a solution for this one yet.

• I also have alcohol and caffeine sensitivity: I metabolize the booze fast (which can lead to hangovers) and the caffeine slowly (which can be detrimental to bone health - what you'll see, below, is likely my biggest issue). Happily, I very rarely imbibe enough to bring about nausea or nasty post-drinking effects (um, that's just unpleasant) and I only have one double-espresso in the morning. I've known for years that drinking more than one will leave me with shakes for an hour. So my body's got me covered on these accounts. Note: These are examples of how my lifestyle is a protective factor against my genetic predisposition.

• Apparently, I also have the gene variation which detrimentally affects bone structure and calcium absorption, which is why the caffeine thing is that much more relevant than it would be otherwise. This bone thing comes up in my report, again and again, vis a vis various gene variations and I have to say I'm really surprised by this. Mind you, it predicts arthritis. Apparently, for me, high intake of vitamin D is key (because that's how my calcium absorption will be improved).

• Alas, and this ain't great either, I show a moderately reduced capacity to neutralize free radicals because I have a deleted version of one of the genes that's instrumental in this process. Given my immediate family history of breast cancer, that's not encouraging. What is encouraging - and this goes back to lifestyle protective factors - is that I can pretty much make up for this by eating extra-high volumes of cruciferous vegetables, like daily. Alas, I HATE a good 90% of cruciferous vegetables because the texture torments me. But, seems my cold-pressed, green juice (with no fruit) habit might be just the thing for this. Furthermore, I'm going to buck up and start eating the tree-like vegetables I loathe. In soup. FYI - I didn't know that arugula is a cruciferous veg. Happily, I eat this in salad all the time because it's one of the few green vegetables that doesn't have the texture of trees!

• Somewhat to my dismay, but hardly a deal-breaker, I'm one of those peeps who shouldn't eat much grilled or smoked meat because I have a version of the gene that rapidly activates the toxic substances present in meat grilled at high temps. You know, I have until now, eaten bacon multiple times a week. And I'm no stranger to a good steak or chop on the BBQ. That's how my husband cooks. But I've been using lifestyle, yet again, to counteract this for the past few months - just by accident. For whatever reason, I've been off the meat and into the seafood. Or eating the meat raw!

• I can't say this one is a surprise (given my Latina origins), but I have moderately high carbohydrate sensitivity. This test tells me that I should limit refined carbs to 8% of my daily calories and to get the rest of the carbs I eat from complex, healthful sources. I don't know where the fuck this leaves my standards (potato chips or fries or rice) but I sense it's in the grocery store.** Of course, carb sensitivity isn't a bad thing - half of the ladies in the world live their lives as if they have it - but I feel like such a statistic.

• Finally, and this is closely entwined with my bone health situation, I have a high propensity towards soft-tissue injury. Between these two things, my pain condition isn't exactly beyond the realm of prediction.

What none of this testing takes into account, as far as I can tell, is my nervous system - the humming-birdlike pace at which my brain and arrhythmic heart are naturally inclined to function. I'm ready to bet that I metabolize absurd amounts vitamin D and omega 3s for this reason alone (though this is totally conjecture). If so, that might predispose me to require even higher daily amounts of these nutrients, than have been recommended by the test, for other genetic-support reasons.

I would LOVE to be able to take a genetic test that predicts things like predisposition to anxiety, phobia and OC response. I'm sure I'd be off the charts but, you know, maybe I'm wrong?! I didn't exactly predict bone health issues and there they are. If anyone knows of a good test that does this, please let me know in the comments. I've become so robot in my 40s :-)

So, did you make it this far?? If yes, I'd love to know if you have done any genetic testing for diet, fitness or other info? What was the most interesting or life-changing thing you learned from the experience. Let's talk!

*FWIW, I have no idea if that consultation is worth it because I haven't undertaken it. I'm just saying that the positioning of information in the reports was too facile for my liking. Then again, I'm one of those in the weeds people. For someone else, the report might check off the boxes.

** The Low Carb diet,  according to DNAFit, is:
 
20% Protein
40% Carbohydrate (15% starchy, 25% fibrous)
40% Fat.

Gotta say, that's entirely feasible - and hardly low carb (though it is light on refined carbs). It's more or less what I do now, except the ratio of my startchy and/or refined carbs to fibrous carbs is skewed in the wrong direction.

Regimen

For someone who swore she wouldn't bother you with info about her fitness, I sure am interpreting that promise broadly. See, I've been up to this for 3 weeks and it strikes me I should tell you how it's entirely different than I thought it would be. This really is Solipsism 101, however, so do feel free to click back tomorrow for something less painfully "all about me".

What I'm Doing: You can see this post for a review of what I aimed to do before I began the New Regime.

As it happens, I have been going to the gym 3 times per week (@60 min each). Why? Well, it's not actually as horrible as I thought it would be. Sure, it's summer and the living is easy, but it strikes me I should habituate to the best of my ability before the bad weather sets in. Also, the classes I've opted to do aren't overly crowded (but they are well-attended).

I'm also practicing active yoga at home twice a week (@45-60 min each). Those practices have been more active than restorative because I'm trying to re-establish my muscle strength (while maintaining flexibility) to build on the work at the gym. If I'm feeling mentally lazy I do a couple of online yoga classes back-to-back (free ones from Yoga Journal).

At the gym, instead of doing cardio machines (which I've used a few times), instead I've gravitated towards the classes. I like their interactivity and the fact that they're in a separate, more quiet space. My goal is to try them all (and there are like 60 variations on a bunch of styles). So far, I've done yoga for one of those gym sessions each week. Why? Well, if I'm going to try them all, I might as well start with the ones that don't scare me. Also, I'm very intrigued to see how gym yoga has evolved in the last 20 years. (Natch, I have a post-worth of info on that which I'll bore you with another time.)

In addition to yoga, I've also been taking the classes that focus on core strength and muscle fitness. I just don't love jumping as much as using my body as leverage. However, I'm pleased to tell you that those muscle-based classes are VERY cardiovascular. I leave with rubbery muscles and covered in sweat (ugh, but I tolerate it).

You might be thinking: Kristin, you still seem to be doing more yoga than anything else. Yeah, well what of it? I'm also doing all the walking I used to do (nothing new there) but I'm systematically adding in some new stuff, approached in a style I can manage. It's a start. Point is, I'm doing much more active fitness than I was a month ago.

What It's Doing For Me: 

Let me start by assuring you that, if you're a person struggling to manage your regular life and all of its bits and pieces, you can add the gym, or some other kind of regular fitness you enjoy, without it sucking up every last bit of energy you have. (Time, well that's another matter entirely, I'm afraid...)

The reason for this, as near as I've been able to determine for myself, is that you use a different pool of energy for fitness than for other pursuits. As an analogy: Imagine that you "pay" for your regular life in cash (let's not suggest we're using credit, people!). The energy for the gym is "paid" by, let's say, an energetic debit card (still energy you own, but of a different format). You replenish the funds available by engaging in your activities of choice. Then you live off the proceeds while you're going about your day-to-day.

I'm amazed to say that I don't feel more tired doing all of this activity, though I am freakin' sore. But it does cut into the time I have to do other things and I'm still coming to terms with that.

But never mind the preamble, what differences can I see or feel?

• I am stronger, more aligned and more flexible, which is very enjoyable. I've been so weak and exhausted since I had pertussis. This enlivens me.

• I have a bit of observable, improved tone in my upper abdomen and backs of legs/lower derriere. I assure you, it's not going to get me my own reality show, but a couple of people have commented.

• However, the main difference - and it's pretty notable - is in how it's undercut the symptoms of my, ahem, menopausal journey. Mercifully, my headaches are being well-managed by a couple of hormonal precursors (prescribed by my naturopath). But the epic that is PMS is playing at a lower volume in the last few weeks. I am far less bloated (it's almost all worth it for this reason alone), less prone to night-sweats and hot flashes. It's too soon to say, but it might actually have some impact, eventually, on the hemorrhagic aspect of my cycles. Of course, so will full-on menopause :-)

So there you go, three weeks in and worth doing.

I should say one other thing, since you'll note I haven't discussed whether I've "lost any weight". I deliberately didn't step on the scale before I started this exercise and I have no intention of doing so at any time going forward. IMO, scales are reductive and I don't understand the obsession with them. They don't tell you if you've lost fat (unless you have a fancy one and even then, the jury's out), they don't explain how you've gained muscle. They cannot advise you (like a simple tape measure), whether your waist is an inch less large.

I have eyes and clothing to tell me whether this regimen is having the intended external impact. And so do we all...

Today's questions: Have you recently begun to exercise hard? How are you feeling? At the gym, do you prefer the cardio or the muscle-tone classes? Are you one of those scale-watchers? Is there some hidden benefit to the scale, in your opinion, that I just don't get? I wanna know.

Gym 1.0 (And I Promise Not to Write About This Again Anytime Soon...)

My goal today (she writes optimistically) is to post twice - as I have 2, entirely different things to talk about. If you care about the New Regime (Kristin's exercise in midlife solipsism), keep on! If this topic irritates, no worries - next up, new fabric...

OK, so today I went to the gym. As with all things one dreads, it was no where near as bad as I'd expected. Instead of going for a spin class (which might have overwhelmed me), Scott suggested that we go together and he'd show me how to work the bike, elliptical machine and rower.

First up, let me say this: I blended in entirely. Except for my tendency to use a zillion more cleaning wipes on every machine than anyone else, I seemed totally gymish - and I wore the same outfit that I had during my gym phase in the 90s. Yeah, back in the 20th century. That outfit consists of a black sports bra (though my new one is SO superior to those of yore), a black sleeveless top, black Lulu lemon short shorts (these work for everything) and my black and white Nike Air's from 1992. They're like, third generation Nikes - so hilariously in your face - but Scott swore that they do not look any different from anyone else's. And seriously, they're still in good shape!

But I know the gym is not about the outfit. I used 3 machines, as referenced above: the bike, rower and elliptical, in that order. I did each for 15 minutes. I don't remember anything about the settings but I know that Scott set them at a reasonable level.

Undoubtedly, the rower was the most fun and the elliptical was the hardest. Stationary bikes are totally boring. Without the real world going by, and the avoidance of street danger, riding a bicycle is much easier than it would otherwise be. Cranking up the gears makes your legs hurt but it doesn't reproduce the freedom, and challenge, of real cycling. I suppose a class makes it more fun cuz you follow an imaginary course and someone else's instructions.

At any rate, though I struggled not to feel sad about the hamster-like state of everyone in the gym, I was surprised to enjoy the rowing. It was meditative. And I was even more surprised to find that the elliptical machine is very good for increasing the heart rate. It was like running, skiing and stair climbing at the same time. The machine monitors your heart rate as you glide and mine was smack in the appropriate high zone for my age - so I was going at the right intensity for me.

Apparently, I can get in and out within 45 minutes (this time took an hour because of orientation).

Did I find it fun? I wouldn't say that - but it was entirely tolerable. I didn't feel overly germ-encrusted and it didn't rain! I intend to go back on Wednesday - weather depending.

The New (Fitness) Regime

In case you're wondering about the New Regime (term courtesy of fitting friend S) - though if you're  bored by my solipsism, my apologies - I have taken next steps (ha!).

A couple of days ago, I joined Scott's gym (the Y), which is to say he expanded his membership to the Family category. As he's done this 3 times (not that I've ever asked him to do so before!), he was sort of irritated but, natch, he complied. I visited the gym to learn more about how they keep things clean, available classes, machines etc. It really has it all one requires. Or far more, if one happens to be me.

My current thoughts are these:

• I will go to the gym 1 or 2 times per week as I gain a comfort level with the environment / determine whether it is meant to be. I will do either a) spinning (Lord...) b) gravity machine class (this is kind of like a Pilates reformer but with buttons and it apparently produces a reasonable cardio component) or c) a machine session with combo of rowing and elliptical. My goal is to be in and out within an hour, but you have to sign up for the classes 30 min in advance and they don't do this online (dark ages, anyone?!). I'm going to aim to go to less busy classes which, hopefully will obviate the need to sign up more than 15 min in advance. Of course, I want to get in and out between 5:30 and 6:30 like the rest of the planet. We'll see if this is in the cards.

• I'll do inversion and stretch-intensive yoga for 45-60 minutes 2 times per week, starting with that miserably entitled "30 Day Shred" internet class (which is 25 minutes in duration, not incl cool down, and incorporates lots of cardio/jumping).

My current plan is to do a total of 3-4 sessions a week: gym sessions lasting 45-60 min and home sessions lasting 75 min (30 of which is hard cardio). If I can't be bothered to get to the gym, I'll sub with home or vice versa (if, by some miracle, I determine that the gym isn't bad).

This will be in addition to my long-standing 60 plus minutes of walking per day (my method of transportation).

This will eat into the amount of yoga I'm doing but, as long as it doesn't impact negatively on my flexibility, I can get with this for whatever amount of time seems reasonable. I mean, I can always add extra yoga of whatever sort I'd like, if I feel the need. That'll be its own thing, however.

If this doesn't yield any results of the slimming variety - and, remember, I'm not doing this for the good of my health! - I'll have to consider adding an additional cardio experience or switching up my cardio vs strength ratios. But unless I find this fun, I don't want to do more than 6 hours per week (over 4 sessions). My hope, needless to say, isn't that cardio, by its very nature, is going to make me slim (I do realize that most of slimming - for most people - is achieved by diet) but to increase the dynamism of my waning metabolism.

As you know, I've cut out booze from Monday - Thurs and my diet (though amped up via hols) is generally healthful and moderate. I really don't want to prune it any more unless I absolutely have to because that will definitely impinge on perhaps my greatest pleasure in life - eating.

I really don't know how this is going to play out but I suspect it will have less to do with my overall motivation to sweat than my ability to get with the gym environment (and to be bothered to get to it). It would be a welcome side-benefit if I could find a way to enjoy this sort of fitness because it provided me with endorphins and a sense of physical well-being (something I've been sorely lacking for the last couple of years).

Needless to say, I haven't yet gone to the gym (the Regime just started), but my goal is to get there tomorrow. Sara, a serious gym-goer, is going to join me to help me get oriented. Of course, it's supposed to be all rain, all the time tomorrow. What else is new?

So, today's questions: Whatcha think of my crazy plan? Does it seem balanced? Do you foresee the need for tweaks? Have you worked out on one of those gravity machines? Do you like the Y? Let's talk!

Glassy-Eyed

So it's slow here peeps - cuz it's fast everywhere else - but I thought I'd check in to say a few things...

1. I got new glasses. Everyone says they look terrific - that I seem younger and French - but I feel vaguely clownish. Moreover, I am middle-aged clownish, having been prescribed (and having purchased) progressives. If you don't know what these are, then count yourself lucky. Effectively they're trifocals, designed to allow me to see my knitting on one plane, my computer on another, and the world at large on the third. That's the idea, anyway. Alas, I don't seem to be able to see anything at any distance (not an uncommon thing when introduced to this style of lens that, among other things, diminishes peripheral vision notably) and my depth perception is on a drug trip. This would be less concerning if I hadn't spent so much money on them that you'd be utterly horrified. Seriously, I'm rarely horrified and I'm horrified. More to come, natch, but (happily), despite the prescription change on all fronts, they aren't causing headaches.

2. Unfortunately, just cuz new glasses are not causing headaches, it doesn't mean I'm not totally on the edge for hormonal reasons. I've got my whole body muscle spasm prodrome going on. It's been tough on this front for the last month or so, but that's how it goes. I refuse to suffer in the name of pain. Pain is my body's resistance to its temporary reality. So be it. I've decided to approach all of my experiences with gratitude because this is the only life I have, the only body I have and I will not wish away the time. It's humbling to find that I cannot even lie over a bolster or do a forward bend that isn't stabilized by 2 cedar blocks under my head but it's a lesson in acceptance. If only I could accept the look of my stomach these days... (I'm working on it.)

3. And, a propos of body acceptance, I'm making the Nettie bodysuit. I couldn't wait. It's quite slow going cuz a) I'm slow and b) what's the rush? I had to modify the pattern, per my shape, extensively. I cut the 12 (recognizing that I should have gone up a size re: info from Heather Lou about sizing on the pattern purchased before May 10). It's fine, though, cuz I used my sloper pieces and I simply changed all the relevant bits. In shoulders I was a modified size 12 (10 in some parts, 14 in others) In the bodice, I am veering towards a 14 (I think) that goes to a 12 - and even a 10 - as I near the derriere.

I sense this pattern is quite forgiving, given that it's designed for very stretchy knit. But it is not drafted for someone of my proportions, out of the envelope, which is why I'm so grateful to know how to alter knit patterns to fit me. This one's a wild card because it's a bodysuit that snaps at the crotch. I recognize that I'm making a muslin and that's cool. Despite constant fabric purchases of the early part of this year, I have so little rayon jersey lying around that I had to cut my fabric in every direction possible. I'm ok with that. It's 4-way stretch and I'm not going to waste "almost enough" good fabric. Especially since this is a test garment. Apparently, I can't stock jersey fast enough... I did manage to cut the garment with about a yard of fabric, vs. the 1.5 yards that the pattern calls for.

I'll write more on this when the garment is complete, but I've made modified 3/4 sleeves (I didn't have enough fabric for longer ones) and a neckline that straddles the high and scoop necks that the pattern provides. I copied the Lady Skater neckline which, frankly, is the most flattering home-sewing pattern neckline I've found thus far. I also shortened the bodice by 1 or 2 inches (can't remember), equally on both front and back.

More to follow on this when I have an outcome.

Every time I mention that posting will be slow to non-existent, it seems to presage a phase of mad writing, but I'm going to say it anyway since, for the next 2 weeks, I've got much to accomplish that has nothing to do with sewing or knitting.

Once the vacay starts, I imagine I'll be so amazed by my new environment that there will be much to say.

Till next time...

Pause for Thought

Where to start with this post. I suppose I should begin with the requisite "this piece will be all over the map" proviso. I also want to suggest, though it goes without saying, that I'm only positing ideas on the basis of my current perspective and experience at this time. Oh, and I'm sorry if this topic causes anxiety for anyone in the prime of life who hasn't hit the perimenopause roller coaster as yet. I just need to vent.

And with that, holy cow people, what the fuck is going on with me right now?

I'm not going to complain about the litany of things you've heard about in the past, namely the migraines. I don't want to be too optimistic on that front but my cocktail of supplements and (carefully monitored) phytoestrogens/hormonal precursors has taken the edge off. The headaches come and go, more unknowably than ever and they seem to last longer when they come before they go. Mind you, they're somewhat less extreme and less frequent, so I'm taking that as progress.

No, I'm talking about nausea. Absurdly, that nausea I've referred to in the past is - no joke - a fucking symptom of hormonal change. Think about this: I frequently encounter morning-sickness-esque symptoms (something I am ALL to familiar with having vomited daily for 7 months while actually pregnant) for no good reason - except that my fucking hormones are in chaos. Furthermore, I cannot stand the taste of certain food and drink which I used to enjoy.

Oh, and now's a good time to turn away if you're squeamish, but I'm also talking about managing the effects of a (perimenopausally-induced) endometrial polyp, discovered (after careful testing) on account of semi-regular hemorrhaging I have experienced. On the plus side, my iron and B12 are stellar, which is all but unbelievable under the circumstances. Apparently, I'm a star when it comes to iron and B12. Note: My daily endocrine-support yoga practice and acupuncture have been instrumental in ameliorating this challenging situation. Which is good because that was some scary shit.   

But never mind that. 

What I really want to talk about is the hit to my ego.

Let me start by saying this: I know I am a youthful individual. My nature is sparky and enthusiastic. I dye my hair. I look much younger than I am - as do all the women on my mother's side of the family. People tell me constantly that I look young. My doctor, last week - when I went for my shots - told me I look 22. (That's just not true, but you get my point.)

I dress stylishly in clothing that fits very well. I have an interesting face with a couple of good features. I'm not obese. I'm not unfit. I eat well (generally). I sleep 8 hours a night. I take vitamins to help me manage life stress - of which there is a reasonable (if "regular") amount. FWIW, prime, daily stressors for me are work, though I enjoy it, and parenting my kid. (Not to dwell, but the parenting is exceedingly stressful and demoralizing much of the time.)

Having said all of this, my body is changing, despite status quo external factors, and I am not pleased.

Look, I know exactly what's happening: my ovaries are conking out and my homeostasis-bound body is doing what it must to keep order. It's producing estrone via abdominal fat. (According to all accounts, it's not even producing a ton of estrone. I mean, I'm keeping it together according to the peeps who work with the women having estrogen-dominance.) The net result of this loop, alas, is a firm abdomen (thanks yoga!) under a layer of bloat and adipose tissue. Worse still, that tissue is NOT toned. It's a (less serious) version of the kind you may have experienced, and begrudged, 2 months after having had a baby. It's, frankly, much less attractive than my midsection of yore. Furthermore, my former midsection was always flat above the navel and in no way crept towards my waist or upper hips.

I realize that this is an entirely first-world problem, but it's fucking with my identity as a sexy hourglass and I do not appreciate it. Seriously, if there are two things I was confident about until quite recently it was that I was a) sexy as hell and b) an hourglass.*

This cannot persist.

Which brings me to the part of the post where I discuss the profiles of the Menopausal Woman, Kristin-style, which is to remind you that it's not worth the ether its written in:

A) First off, there's the slender woman who's always been slender in the midsection and who will continue to be slender until, realistically, death. Let's call her genetically lucky.

B) Then there's the woman - and I hesitate to say this, but I feel she's in the majority - who starts to put on the midsection pounds in her 40s, slowly but surely. First it's the boobs that gain a couple of sizes (in addition to a couple of inches in band size), then it's the abdomen, finally the hips and upper ass. By 50, she's a much squatter version of her former self, whatever that was. Alas, this shape speaks for itself and, sassy personality of its victim notwithstanding, it's not a hot look. I continually debate the preordinance of this scenario and I truly hope that I'm correct in my assertion that, while this may be the only path for some women, it's not the only way for most.

C) Finally, there's the woman who sees the writing on the wall and fights tooth and nail to retain the pre-menopausal shape she's was born with. Cue movie stars and people who live in NYC, Paris or North Toronto. Fighting may take the form of serious diet modification (for life), surgical modification or extreme fitness modification - perhaps even all three! Sure, eventually her face will give her away, but this lady's body's gonna look 35 for a long time.

Here's my dilemma.

I DO NOT LIKE ANY OF THESE OPTIONS.

The lanky-frame, genetic lottery ship sailed approximately 43 years ago. The slow train to boxy-ville is too depressing to consider. And the militaristic approach to, well, anything, is really not my way.

But, it seems, that the woman who eats and drinks a moderate amount (OK, in full disclosure, things are getting less moderate due to the ice age in which I currently find myself), exercises a moderate amount and makes sure she goes for a massage every once in a while, is not pleasing the menopause goddess. I mean Menopause Bitch.

This post is not about presenting solutions. I'm done with solutions for this week. This week, I'm in full wallow mode. (Happily, my current bout of PMS assists me in this respect.) Sure, I've got some tricks up my sleeve, don't I always? But I'm wearing thin, pun intended.

I'll close with a few general questions and I really would love your feedback: Do you think there's a menopause profile that I've neglected? If yes, could you make it one that will appeal to me? If you've gone through this life-stage, would you provide some optimism for those of us on the cusp? If you're on the cusp, would you at least pretend to be having a miserable time, like I am, just in the interests of commiseration? Presuming my perspective is correct, if you had to go through "the change" via Profile B or C, which would you opt for? Think about it carefully: Option B is frumpy - but fun, just like your life has been so far. Option C is attractive but soul-sucking. Let's talk.

*Now's a good time to mention that my husband, while he has no doubt observed these changes - cuz I never fucking shut up about them - would like you to know that he still finds me sexy as hell. And this is not a sponsored post.