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Dr. Oz, Colonoscopy and Overdoing It In Maine

Observations of a Fifty Something Housewife

BY MAGAZINE COLUMNIST MORA HECHT

I enjoy freelance writing, and while the outcome of the process is usually favorable, it is often a painstaking labor.

Not so much the ideas, it’s the time.

I begin in earnest most mornings

But, there are other priorities that must be met: laundry, vacuuming, changing the cat litter box, looking behind furniture for what should be in the cat litter box, checking in on ill parents, grocery shopping, etc.

I have gladly sashayed into my fifties with a confidence grown out of past experiences. However, I have realized that not only have I changed – think hot flashes and mood swings – but my little cocoon of a family has changed, too.

My daughter is married and my son, who graduated law school, is out of the house. My mother passed away over a year ago, leaving my siblings and me responsible for our disabled older sister. My husband’s mother, who lives nearby, turned eighty-seven and is often in and out of the hospital.

I am very fortunate for the life I have, very grateful, in fact. But, sometimes we are thrown curve balls and it is up to us to deal with them the best we can. The truth is, I don’t always know what the best way is, but this is my life and how I see it.

I’ve got to go now and do something with the air; boy is it hot in here!

The Great and Powerful Oz

A major change bestowed upon us fifty-somethings is the sudden onslaught of medical and nutritional information.

A few months ago Dr. Oz recommended drinking green tea, which he recently changed to white.

I drink my second cup with a multiple vitamin, alas, Centrum Silver, as though I need to be reminded every morning that I am 50+, vitamin D3, calcium, magnesium and a baby aspirin. And of course, the best news of all is that we get to have our colons probed.

Happy Birthday to me!

An Ounce of Cure

I do believe in preventative medicine, exercise and a healthy mind and body. I arrived at this conclusion, albeit circuitously, through my relationship with my mother and food.

I began a cycle of self-examination at the age of thirteen when it was brought to my attention that I was fat. A short, freckled face, red headed Jewish girl sticks out in a Catholic neighborhood, full of beautiful thin blondes.

Of course it did not occur to me that my weight was due to the common bond my mother and I shared. Every afternoon, without fail, we would commiserate over a row or two of Oreo cookies, chased down with an ice cream soda.

As often happens to chubby young girls who lose weight, we still think of ourselves as chubby young girls! So I may have a slight preoccupation with weight and food, even though I have done a pretty good job of eating healthy and exercising for some time now.

Still, Chubby Girl rears her nasty head every now and then, even for this fifty something woman.

Weight…a minute…

I’ve gained seven pounds this past month. While that does include a week vacationing in Maine, it is still depressing.

I weighed my five pound dumbbell, just to make sure the scale is accurate.

Damn, 4.6 pounds, and damn this menopause! I know this excess will cling stubbornly to my midriff, another adjustment to the fifties. In my forties the pounds seemed to melt off effortlessly.

My arms feel like little Kielbasa sausages. I can feel them bulging, ready to explode. I am no expert on nutrition, but if I am honest with myself, perhaps sharing a pint of fried clams with my husband, a side of slaw and tartar sauce for lunch, a lobster dinner, followed with a vanilla custard cone could cast some suspicion my way.

During breakfast, the Inn serves homemade coffee cake with a sweet caramel topping that I may have had a sliver or two of. What is with my memory? You know, menopause has been attributed to some memory loss.

I forgot about afternoon tea at the Inn. They do have the most wonderful, fresh from the oven gingerbread cookies, so soft on your palate, they practically melt in your….

Read Mora all month long, blogging with her pearls on, at Is Anybody Else Hot?

© 2011, The Magazine of Yoga, LLC.