life according to me

life according to me

Glucosamine, Progesterone & Bubble Baths

Somehow, I never made it to Target yesterday. By the time I decided to leave the house, it was after 12. I shook my head at the traitorous clock chiding myself over my lack efficiency. I used to be so organized. Well, maybe I just thought that of myself, languishing in years of self-indulgent praise. After all, I was worth it, wasn’t I? What a load of crap.

With some degree of resignation, I ventured down the hill to the drug store to peruse the section that might have glucosamine and chondroitin for my less than limber joints. Well, they’re still quite limber, they just hurt like a sonuvvahbitch. It wasn’t tough to find, there was so much of it. And just to keep me occupied, there were combinations of the two — how convenient. From what I’d read, both were necessary for my annoyingly persistent aches, so why not save having to choke down more than one horse-sized pill a couple of times a day.

It’s just unbelievable how much this stuff costs. Talk about having us by the short hairs. Let’s see — ache until your eyeballs fall out, or shell out the 25 bucks for a month’s supply. How much can it cost to make the damn things, anyway? And what about the side effects? I deplore taking pills or caplets, or anything that is supposed to “fix me” for any reason. I’m highly suspicious of the conflicting reports the media spreads about the benefits or lack thereof that “dietary supplements” can have. In the case of glucosamine, it seems that to alleviate the achiness in my joints, I will only have to tolerate increased intestinal gas. Great.

If it’s not one thing, it’s another. I’m so excited to be able to now understand why the loving endearment Old Fart exists and that I may soon be a card carrying member.

I tentatively settled on a brand I easily recognized. But after picking up one container, holding on to it while I read a few more labels, then placing it back in its slot to retrieve another, and proceed to repeat the whole indecisive process, I had to wonder whether the druggist who was encased in his shop a few feet away thought I was a loon or not. I finally chose “Triple Flex.” All the ingredients and quantities checked out, and I allowed myself to be coerced by the image of a slick sports like body wrapped in a computer generated grid that appeared on the box. So, that wasn’t too bad.

I, too, could possibly have a body with a grid wrapped around it. Perhaps be the next 6 Million Dollar Old Fart.

On the other side of the aisle were products I’d seen before and dismissed back in February when I was of a mind to tough this surgically induced menopause bullshit out. Now that it’s seriously kicking me in the ass throughout every day, like I said yesterday, “I’ve been pinned,” so I better figure it out. But there’s just something bizarre about the whole hormone thing and I wander over to the section that has other “personal” products like condoms, personal lubricant, hot flash cold packs and what I was looking for — Progesterone & Phytoestrogen. It comes in a container that sort of looks like deoderant. I saw this product months ago and have kept it in mind, wondering if it would be better than the heinous HRT cellophane patches I wore on my abdomen for a month before rebelling and abandoning their use. Somehow this “measured dosage pump” of “purified water, aloe vera gel, sunflower seed oil, natural glycerine, shea butter, stearic acid, natural progesterone,” and a litany of other things that don’t exactly sound “natural” seems less threatening. Why not just try it? If I have hair growing on my palms after a month, I’ll rethink my strategy, right?

Nearly 50 bucks poorer, I then made my way to the kitchen store in the same mall to purchase the juniper berries I knew they’d have for the beef daube I was making for dinner. Yes, juniper berries. And yes, they look just like the berries we’d pick off the junipers in front of our house and fire at one another. Who knew? So, I didn’t get to wander the aisles at Target, but this was better. I love the kitchen store. After staring at depressing supplements for a half hour, fondling brioche pans, salivating over imported balsamic vinegar, and lusting after a new rectangular fluted tart pan, I was more than fine. For a while.

After catching up with the RT and his daily report on how the new school year is going and what kind of homework he has, I puttered around in the kitchen preparing dinner, expecting to be in better spirits. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. So I poured myself a glass of wine, grabbed my book and headed up to the bathtub for a soak. The phone rang on the way with the MoH calling to let me know how late he’d be. “How was your day?” he asked, not expecting my response. After all, how could one have a less than stellar day when nearly zero is required with respect to responsibility. “I’m not feeling all that hot, so I’m headed up to take a bath,” I explained. The few seconds of silence on the phone was expected as taking a bath is yet another thing that I just don’t do. And before dark? Unheard of. In five years, I’ve probably used my bathtub fewer than 10 times. But a cool bath just seemed to be the ticket to breaking the malaise that had been dragging me down all day. I told the MoH that it was no big deal. That I’d be fine by the time he got home.

What About a Bath?I opened the window to let the wind in, poured in a ridiculous amount of something milky, bubbly and promising rejuvenation, made sure the water was luke warm, then settled in. Waiting until the water was a few inches from the top, I turned off the faucet. Waiting for the water to work its cool, soothing wonders. Feeling the gentle pushing of air against the blinds over the window. Listening to the rustle of the palms. Watching the golden glow of early evening sun against the chimney above the skylight. Melting.

Maybe I’ve been wrong about baths all these years.

I could get used to this.

No problem.

Maybe I should blow the dust off my Pilates book. That should be much easier on my joints instead of power intervals and walking lunges.

But I’ll have to work out how to lay on the mat, keep my glasses on my face so I can read the directions, and do the routines.

Hell, who said any of this ever was easy? Huh?



8 thoughts on “Glucosamine, Progesterone & Bubble Baths”

  • I just bought that same exact stuff for Nelson-boy. Poor guy’s legs are slipping out from under him and he couldn’t even lift it to take a leak in the forest. Snif, Snif….. In other news, my hot flashes have completed stopped, but mom says they will be back.

  • Poor Nelson-boy. How sad. It makes my heart hurt.

    It did cross my mind when I was trying to get out of the tub that whomever built it wasn’t thinking about convenience. Good news ’bout yer flashin’ and yes, they will most definitely be back.

  • Just out of curiosity, how much calcium to take a day in pill form? I read somewhere that women over the age of 30 should take a bare minimum of 3000 mg. Sounds like a ton, I know, but thems the stats.

    I have notoriously weak shoulders, and when I exercise a lot, it doesn’t matter, cardio, weight lifting, it always seems to translate to sore aching shoulder sockets. Calcium supplements have made a huge difference.

    Ohh also, if you tend to sleep on your front down, and tuck your arms up under the pillow, try not to do this, it hyper extends your shoulders all night long, and will only aggravate what your already going through.

  • Hey, Dave…or should I say Dr. Dave? Sounds kinda catchy, huh? I take 3200 mg. of calcium with vitamin D3 and magnesium (400mg) thrown in for good measure. Actually, that’s how much I go back and forth taking. I’m not good at the consistently taking pills thingy. I do use chewable tablets, so one would think this wouldn’t be difficult.

    Yes, I’ve always had a sore type body in life after exercise, but not like this. It’s a total drag. As far as the sleeping thing goes — I don’t very well anymore. I have noticed, now that you mention it, that I hyperextend my entire body, because the stretching feels good. But then I can’t move. Totally bizarre.

  • pain kinda makes me feel alive.. so i will leave the joints alone for the time being… but that bath sounds inviting… of course for me it would have to be so hot it leaves a red ring around everything it touches… but then i am not most people…..

  • Been there, done that, remember? Now I just put up with the pain. Hey, I work for a chiropractor! I will wait a few weeks before I hit him up for a freebe. My “core” program hurt my neck. I also had trouble with the glasses. Wanted to record it so I could follow along. Maybe…….. or not. I walked to the neighborhood watering hole which is 1.3 miles and hadda beer and walked back. I’m trying every thing. I like the beer part.

  • Paisley, I love very hot soaking bath water, too. But it’s still too warm for that, and any time I’m around anything too warm, it triggers all the flashing. Talk about tiresome. I’m thinking that if men had to go through menopause, someone would have done something about all of this crap a very long time ago.

    As far as pain goes, I just have more time to notice it now. I don’t know that I’ve ever tolerated it because it reminds me I’m alive — and do know what you are speaking of — I just acknowledged that it existed for a reason, and I’ve gotten familiar with it and tried to correct what was causing it instead of popping pills. The idea of disguising pain doesn’t make sense. Just so you can keep on doing whatever caused it to begin with? Totally ridiculous.

  • Hey E, How could I forget? I remember when you were taking so much calcium, a white cloud came out of your mouth when you burped.

    I hope you’re liking your new job and that it gives you the freedom you crave. Core training sounds like a new word for Pilates. I’ll bet. And it is supposed to help your bones and muscles if you stick with it. I’d like the beer part of the deal as well…

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