The Joys of Aging, Part I

This time of year is generally spent in reflection, and I will get to that this year, even though I neglected it last year. But for today’s subject, I thought I would tackle the inevitable: getting older. This blog will be part of a seres of themes on it, and today’s topic is eyesight.

There’s an old adage about aging that says that the eyes are the first things to go.

I have finally accepted the fact that I have old eyes. You have no idea how painful it is to fully acknowledge that realization. First of all, I am myopic, which means I can not clearly see objects in a distance. That distance does not exceed the length of my arm.

I have known I needed eyeglasses since the 5th grade, and wore them steadily after 12th grade (hence the reason I have had a premature permanent frown line between my brows). Not being able to see distances is a way of life: I don’t feel comfortable getting out of bed without an extra set of eyes. Most nights, I just go straight to sleep in them.

So to now have to admit that I have the additional problem of not seeing text close up is a double strike. I haven’t gotten to the point of actually needing reading glasses yet, but I can no longer read in my trusty eyeglasses. Most of the time, they end up perched on my forehead (which often smudges them with oil) or under my chin when I’m deep into a read. But when it’s a quick read, I actually peak over the top of my glasses in much the way I used to watch my Aunt Resa do. I remember that I would laugh, wondering why she did that. Now I know Aunty, now I know.

Before this segues into a tribute to all the lessons learned from Aunty, which could be a separate post altogether, let’s stay on the topic of the eyes. The official scientific explanation for old eyes is that when people age, their eyes lose their elasticity. The official name for this condition is presbyopia, and believe it or not, this term literally means “aging eye,” so I’m not that far off when I say old eyes.

Sadly, what this means is that at some point I will have to get readers—-worse yet, the dreaded bifocals. I often half jokingly quip that I am only one step way from getting a seeing eye dog. Personally, I think it’s unfair that I won’t be able to see up close or far away without corrective actions. I might as well invest in those fancy beaded chains.

Product links: TOODOO 2 Pieces Shell Glass Beaded Eyeglass Straps Sunglasses Holder with 4 Pieces Silicone Loop (Color Set 1)

Kellog's Is Evil

So I bought some of those mini-boxes of cereal from Sam's so that A could have them in the morning. After all this time, you'd think Kellogg's would figure out that Frosted Mini Wheats are the worst addition to this package. In fact, Frosted Mini Wheats--any Mini Wheats for that matter--are the worst invention ever.

Let's just be clear: Mini Wheats are essentially Triscuits without the salt. I actually like Triscuits, especially now that they come in interesting flavors such as ranch. But back to the cerealized version.

For those unfamiliar, Mini Wheats favor little pillows in shape, and they are made of some mesh of wheat fiber. Imagine if you will some very thin dried twigs and you have pretty much nailed the consistency. The same texture applies to mouth feel when they are dry. But the problem is that they are meant to be consumed wet with milk. This is a critical design flaw because once milk touches these little pillows, they almost INSTANTLY get soggy, which is the worst mouth feel of all. And don't get me wrong--I am usually the person who prefers soggy cereal. I will pour milk over almost any cereal and let it sit, just so that it can get soggy. I especially like Frosted Flakes and Pebbles cereal soggy. But with Mini Wheats it is a different story. I am forced to quickly consume the cereal as the sogginess is unbearable, akin to oatmeal (which I have a love-hate relationship with; see my past post on it). And because of this texture, I am forced to keep just to the original serving size of those mini boxes (which is a half-cup serving) when I would normally gobble up the equivalent of a whole big cereal bowl full (which realistically is almost three cups).

But I guess placing them in those mixed variety packs is part of their evil plan to rid their shelves of Mini Wheats. Because really, who in their right mind actually buys this cereal on purpose? I'm pretty sure that grocery stores must have some Mini Wheat buy back problem, or that they just sit on the shelf collecting dust. I will have to investigate the cereal aisle to see if there are more than two boxes placed in the front as a screen, with Apple Jacks or some other fun popular cereal as the other boxes.

An Unexpected Introduction to the New Year

Disclaimer: I include this disclaimer strictly for my male readers. If you are squeamish of lady parts and that time of the month, then you should avoid/skip this entry. However, if you are mature enough, or just inherently curious about your mate, mother, sister, cousin, friend, or even coworker who may be experiencing this distress, then by all means forge on.

2nd Disclaimer: The language will not be extremely delicate.

3rd Disclaimer: I asked for this.

In previous blogs, I have been lamenting the endless cycle that is the menstrual cycle. I asked for menopause because after giving birth to my son, my cycle changed from a simple 5-day curse with 1 heavier day to a full 7 days with TWO heavy days—days so heavy I had to start converting to the ultra thick purple pads with wings—the ones that cover front the front to the back.

So for the past five years at least, I have been asking for menopause to come and to come swiftly. At first, the symptoms of perimenopause came slowly: one year in January, I started getttin acid reflux, and symptoms were so severe that I had to change my eating habits drastically. Although I rarely ate fried foods, I almost completely stopped that and highly acidic foods. In addition, I stopped eating after 6pm, unless it was light fruit or vegetables.

The acid reflux led to throwing up, and this reflux and throw up cycle always coincided with the pre-menstrual cycle. Once my period left, so did the nausea.

Now if you’ve read any of my previous blogs on this topic, this is merely review of TMI.

Then came the night sweats. I have never been one to experience being overheated. My coworkers will tell you that I spend most of my day huddled with my hearted and a sweater. But lately, my body chemistry has changed, especially at night. I may start off going to bed wrapped up, but within an hour, I ended up stripping down because I am drenched in sweat! I guess the best way to label them is to call them hot flashes, but it’s more accurate to say hot drowning. I would often wake in the middle of the night and the sheets would be so wet that you would have sworn that I’d hopped in the bed immediately after a hard workout. I mean Pilates mixed with kickboxing mixed with hot yoga kind of workout. Or that I’d taken sheets out of the washer and not bothered to dry them. THAT level of sweat.

So here it is 2019, and I find myself in full blown out menopause. The strange thing about ending your cycle is that before it goes away, you are forced to endure every bit of your womb being dried out piece by piece, every miserable step of the way. On the 27th of December, my cycle reappeared slightly later than expected. It was supposed to swoop in and ruin something during the holiday, but presumably, it would have appeared around the middle of the month, or by Christmas. Yet I rang in the new year on. Sadly, it is still with me—10 FREAKING DAYS LATER! And it is showing no sign of relenting.

Welcome to Menopause.