Pudgecicle

It is June. I am fat and yet, cold. I am a pudgecicle. There, I have admitted it. Now what to do about that?
Well, admitting it was a big deal for me. For a long while, Denial was just a river in Egypt (da Nile). But after having several buttons and clasps pop off, I figured out I had to stop popping so much into my mouth.

So, what to do? Less. Less eating and more distractions. Time for the weapons of mass distraction. Social media, really good reads, instead of books I am reading out of a sense of obligation to get to the end and say I've read them. Oh, and of course, massages, facials and pedicures-other ways to treat myself that don't involve calories. All these within reason and an eye towards the shrinking wallet and recession.

There is that word again, recession. It seems for me that the recession has been one long sugar craving. Let's hope it stops soon. Let's also hope it warms up sometime this summer. I am tired of being a pudgecicle.

Remember When A Text Was A Mere Noun?

I enjoyed a fabulous Reunion weekend at Trinity. It was great to meet up with old friends and talk to those who we went to school with but hadn't seen in many years. Many things have changed in twenty years.

Most of us were shocked at how nice the dorms are now after a major renovation. The dorm bathroom is actually nicer than our family bathroom (which admittedly, does not say much for my family bathroom, but that is the topic of a future blog). We also heard things that were frankly unimaginable for us. Apparently, now the students are texted from the dryers in the basement when their clothes are done! As far as my class is concerned, a text was an academic book and uttering the word would not illicit much excitement. If anything, it was the opposite. Now of course, it can be very exciting to get a text.

As for dining, we had the obligatory rubber chicken at Saturday night's dinner and I noticed much later that groups of classmates were walking around with pizza boxes from Campus Pizza. I am guessing the alumni and college could have saved a lot of trouble and expense and just ordered Campus Pizza for dinner. It would have been the perfect way to reminisce.

Sunday's brunch was a different story altogether. The food was fabulous and held at Miss Porter's School-one of my classmates is married to the Head of School there. It was nice to get together in a different setting and for those who hadn't ventured to Farmington in their college years, it is a lovely spot.

When we graduated and departed Trinity all those years ago, we promised to write and call each other. Now, we promise to use that new verb "friending" to keep in touch on Facebook. Some of us can event tweet each other. It does make you wonder what wacky words we will be using in five years' time which will signify newer, even faster ways to communicate. I am just catching up on the tweeting and friending, it is hard keeping up in this new technommunity, but I will try my best.

Twentieth Reunion

I know it is hard to imagine from my youthful looking picture, taken a mere two and a half years ago, but I am going to my twentieth college reunion this weekend. In some ways, I can't imagine that 20 years have transpired since my college years. In others, though, that seems like a lifetime ago.

If someone asked me then what I would be doing twenty years from now, I am not sure how I would have replied. If someone asked me how I would feel twenty years from now, I probably would have said something very clever like, "accomplished."

How do I really feel? Mostly great. I am healthy, happily married and have two great kids (at least when they aren't screaming at each other) and one great dog (except when she digs). What of aging? Well, if you told me that I would wander from one room to another in my home and wonder aloud "now why did I come in here?," you would have been met with a laugh and a question of "twenty years from now? I will only be 42!" I guess the laugh is on me.

If you asked me if I would be bothered by wrinkles, age spots, aches, pains and a sluggish metabolism, I would have said no (again thinking these would not yet set in except for maybe the wrinkles). The reality is, I don't like the wrinkles, and the parenthesis that have come to bookend my mouth, the tightness in my left hip, etc.

But age has also brought me wisdom. I am lucky to still be here, healthy and happy twenty years later. Wrinkles and minor aches are the tolls for the journey I have taken. I have seen others not so lucky, including a handful of classmates who are no longer with us. So, I say bring on the wrinkles, it beats the alternative and gives me something to whine about as well.

I Have To Get This Off My Chest

Yesterday I went to an MD for a follow up breast exam. No big deal right? Apparently no big deal medically. But I was nevertheless told that I should come back every six months to be examined (undoubtedly at a higher specialist rate) and should come back in 2 weeks for genetic counseling for being high risk for breast cancer and consider expensive gene testing that would not be covered by insurance. Huh?

The more I think about it, the more I think that all this practice wants to do is maximize the amount of money they can make off of me. My feelings of dis-ease with this practice began right when I was shown to the examining room. While the nurse who checked me in meant no offense, I was nontheless offended by her comment that "if I had to pick a kind of cancer to get, it would be a breast cancer." She espoused about how it was a really treatable disease and people are surviving it, though she quickly added, "not that I am saying it is a walk in the park."

One would think that an individual in the field of breast care would be better informed of the actual statistics surrounding breast cancer. Newsflash: women are still dying of breast cancer. Beyond that, after watching my sister suffer through diagnosis, waiting, waiting, waiting, surgery and a long and grueling treatment, I would never say that I would "pick" breast cancer.

I would like to think that this is an isolated incident, but I fear that breast cancer and the fear/risk of breast cancer is a very lucrative business. While I will go for mammograms and breast MRIs as dictated by my risk factors, I will not be returning to this practice. Sure, this has to do with my breasts, but I am going with my gut on this.