Indelicate Matters

Not to be indelicate, but I've been having some stomach problems lately.  A not so "polite" subject matter and certainly not one for the dinner table even though it's all about the food.  Probably not really a subject matter for a blog either.   Or is it?

It's something I've dealt with most of my life to some extent.  I know many women out there can relate.  Not so sure about the men as most of you seem able to set a clock based on your water closet visits.

Up until now it's something that really only affected me say, after a night where I imbibed too much (college years), anytime I ate fast food (kinda obvious), all road trips, or after eating anything which offended my stomach in an unforgivable manner.  But lately, and especially in the months leading up to my 40th birthday, things went downhill fast.

What is it about turning 40 anyway?  It's like my body fell asleep in my late 20's and on my 40th birthday jerked wide awake and shrieked, "What the hell??  What has happened to us, precious?"  

I wonder if turning 40 is God's little inside joke.  Just something to keep Him entertained along the way.  Does he chuckle to Himself as we morph from:

"Oh, me? I'm in my twenties.  I'd love to run a marathon with you - I haven't been training, but I used to run a bit in college.  How hard can it be?"


"What are these tiny, unidentifiable scribbles on this piece of paper?  Is it hieroglyphics?  Is it code for something?  Excuse me…what did you say?  Would I like to borrow your READING GLASSES???"

But it's no joke.  It's real.  A very real reminder of what a delicate balance we must maintain in our health.  So as my body has begun to show the signs of a little wear and tear, I know all is not copacetic.   And so, as we do upon reaching 40, because the road ahead just got a little shorter, I decided to call my doctor and make an appointment.  

I really like my doctor.  And it isn't just because I get to weigh myself at her office instead of having a size 0 nurse weigh me.  When I operate the weigh machine I get to move the scale around until I land on whatever number I'd prefer to see, hop quickly off and delightfully declare, "Well, look at that, 125, just like my driver's license says!"   

I do like that part, but I really like her because she isn't afraid to visit the holistic side of things when meeting with patients.  I also love the wind chimes and hummingbird feeders.  It makes me want to tell her that I meditate to a CD of a very well-known guru from India.  Which I don't. I just want to impress her because the rock art and water features make me feel relaxed and inspired.  

My point is that she listened to my long list of bodily digestive woes, and came up with a plan to help me move forward.  She didn't just prescribe me a medication and send me on my way.  Instead she looked at my lifestyle, my habits, and with a few tests developed a plan to figure out what's bothering me so we can move towards healing my grumpy gut.    

Why, you may ask, am I over-sharing this obviously personal information?

Because I have the list of foods I am allowed to eat in the next 6 months sitting beside me right now.  And it is not a long list.  At all.  I think Ella's first words would have made up a longer list than this.  Also eating is going to take more brainwork on my part.  I have to read labels very carefully, plan every meal to make sure no offending characters are involved, journal about how that meal made me feel or didn't feel, then do it all over again in a few hours.  And to top it all off, my happy hour acquaintances are also banned from joining me on this journey.

Despite everything, I am going to do this.  Because my health is important.  I only have this one body and I want to take care of it.  I am 40 and I hope to be 80 one day.  Getting older is quite a ride.  But older is beautiful, too.   So tonight I will begin my new food journey and while the kids and Sean are enjoying tacos I will be happily munching away at…let's see here...chicken liver, plain roasted beets, and a white potato with no butter or sour cream.  

Dear Food Journal,

Tonight's meal did not make my tummy feel bad at all.  Hooray!  However, it did make me feel so, so sad because it tasted terrible.  Also, I really, really, really miss taco night.  

The ever hungry but hopefully healthier me 




  1. I am so, so happy that you are figuring things out. When you come over for lunch I will make you something off your very short list, well anything but liver... yuck!

    1. Thank you, my friend! Don't even bother trying to feed me, I'm hardly worth it. I will just bring over a piece of lettuce and some water. :)

  2. Oh, Melissa, you sounded so much better when I last spoke to you. I didn't realize you had to go to this extreme! Darn it! Was hoping it was just a simple miracle cure! But good for you for taking charge, and good luck with that very short list. Love you, Becky


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