April 18, 2023 by Musings from a Tangled Mind

Aging Like Fine… Cabbage

I just made myself some fried cabbage. Yep. At 10:00. At night. Fried cabbage at this hour is like playing a rigged game of Russian roulette with your digestive system. It’s not a matter of if, but when the rumbling and gurgling will start. So forget about enjoying that delicious goodness without paying the price later. It’s like our stomachs have become traitors in our golden years. It’s enough to make you want to cry into your bowl of bland, flavorless oatmeal. Oh, the joys of aging. Who needs roller coasters and bungee jumping when you can live on the edge by eating fried cabbage at 10 pm?

As we get older, our bodies betray us at every turn. We used to be able to eat anything we wanted without giving it a second thought. We could chow down on a giant burrito at midnight and be ready for a marathon the next day. But now, even the thought of a spicy meal after 7 pm can send our digestive system into a tailspin.

It’s not just about food either. Remember the days when we could stay up all night partying with friends and still function like a normal human being the next day? Now, just one glass of wine can leave us feeling like we’ve been hit by a truck. That’s our bodies telling us, “Sorry, just give it up, those days are over. You’re officially old.” If you need any confirmation at all, just go to the grocery store. Our music – the music we listened to as we danced the night away – is now playing on the speakers. Talk about adding insult to injury.

And don’t even get me started on the aches and pains. It used to be that we could bend over and touch our toes without even thinking about it. Now, we have to carefully stretch out every muscle just to tie our shoes. It’s like we’re slowly turning into the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz.

But perhaps the cruelest irony of aging is the toll it takes on our love of food. The days of devouring an entire pizza without batting an eye are behind us. Now, we have to think twice before indulging in anything remotely spicy or greasy… weighing the risks against the deliciousness of the meal. Is it worth it? Is it really? And even if we do give in to our cravings, we know we’ll be paying for it later.

No matter how much we fight it – with some of us kicking and screaming all the way to the plastic surgeon – aging and all the downsides that come with it, is inevitable. So, we might as well find humor in the absurdity of it all. After all, laughter is the best medicine. Or so they say. Even if it doesn’t do much for our digestion.

And who knows, maybe someday we’ll stumble upon the elusive fountain of youth and be able to enjoy our favorite foods with reckless abandon once again. Until then, we’ll just have to make do with the blandest of meals and the earliest of bedtimes. Blech. But hey, at least we’ll be able to laugh about it over a shared tub of Tums.

July 28, 2016 by Musings from a Tangled Mind

Beauty Regimen

No one wants to grow old and most of all no one wants to look old. I know. I get it. The cosmetics industry, including anti-aging products, are a booming business and the money these companies make off vanity and insecurity (women’s and men’s) is astronomical. I’m not above it all. I want to look the best I can when I do decide to wear make-up. And while I haven’t succumbed to the siren’s call of anti-aging products thus far, I may still yet.

The sheer number of products available to curb Father Time is overwhelming and quite intimidating if you ask me. I mean, I can’t decide what I want for dinner most evenings for goodness’ sake — and here I’m supposed to choose from among a gazillion different beauty products destined to make me look like the 25-year-old model poised tantalizingly in their ad? Speaking of which, really!? Since when do 25-year-olds need anti-aging creams? Yeah, yeah, sunscreen, moisturizer, you’re done. You’re beautiful. Don’t rub it in (a pun, ha!). But the genius behind the marketing has even the youngest, most beautiful women with nary a wrinkle anywhere on their body, let alone on their face, feeling they need, no, absolutely must have that fine-line diminishing cream. And it doesn’t end there. Oh no.

There are anti-wrinkle creams, under eye creams, over eye creams, creams that will magically destroy the jowls you’ve been working on since you took the leap into your 40’s. Some of these products are so perfectly ensconced in their pretty little jars that I simply love to stare at their glistening, velvety texture. It seems a shame to ruin that flawless, minuscule Dairy Queen twist by actually using it. Oh hey, didn’t Dairy Queen have a two for one cone special today…!? But I digress.

Several of the products I’ve seen and have sampled at various counters smell divine while others reek more of the wildlife exhibits at a less than fully janitorial-staffed zoo. I received a makeover once at an upscale cosmetics counter and the neck cream the woman liberally applied (couldn’t complain about them being stingy with products!) was lovely and had a strong perfume-y odor which I suppose is better than an elephant house at the zoo theme, but it was so pungent that within seconds of it being applied, I had an allergic reaction to the smell and my throat closed up. Not exactly the look I was going for when I got there, thank you very much.

Navigating the vast reservoir of choices in a drug store or online are no different. Maybe it’s my age, which would indicate I need a hell of a lot more than just these products on my shopping list, but not only are the ingredients confusing – most of which I cannot pronounce – the promised results are often contradictory. Oils to reduce wrinkles on acne prone skin? That one just doesn’t make sense to me. Vanishing cream!? Doesn’t work the way you’d think. I tried. Was greatly, GREATLY disappointed to still be visible, I’ll have you know.

Things used to be so much simpler. When I was growing up, my mother had PHisoderm. That was it. And my brother and I were not allowed to touch it. It was hers. She always had beautiful skin. I guess I wouldn’t have shared with the likes of my brother and me either. They don’t make the original version of PHisoderm any longer. Oh, you can buy the new generation of formulas the company has on the market. But the original has apparently gone by the wayside. Too bad.

Of course Cleopatra supposedly bathed in milk to stay young and supple. But look where that got her. So not sure I’ll be trying that beauty regimen any time soon.

So. You can see the issues I’ve been having with choosing an anti-aging beauty regimen at this stage in my life. Although I’ve tried to be the “modern woman” and get on this whole “turn back the clock train,” I usually just end up slathered in overpriced foul-smelling goo desperately asking no-one in particular “is it supposed to sting!? No, seriously, is it supposed feel like this!?” and then staring in the mirror for over an hour with a magnifying glass looking for minute changes. Who has that kind of time? Not to mention the pain threshold.