Can you imagine?

In an article I read, they euphemistically called it 'White Matter'. Which, for me, has a decidedly better ring than 'fat', don't you agree? Think about it, "I've added some white matter to my hips," Perhaps that conjures up a visual of a run in with a bottle of baby powder, a concealing of cocaine, or some other such nefarious activity, rather than a couple of inches. 

'Bottle' of baby powder? 

Absolutely know that bottle is the incorrect word, but for the life of me I can't, as I type this, retrieve the correct word. Jar of baby powder? Box of baby powder?  Perhaps, by the time I finish this, it will come to me.

Which brings me back to White Matter.

This article, "The Grown Up Brain: Sharper Than Once Thought," is a comforting concept. And that white matter (aka, fat) well it apparently coats the tails of brain cells and in middle age (which they consider 40-65) peaks. And the inability to find that elusive word, name, place is simply an issue of retrieval not memory loss. 

As for aiding and abetting in keeping those little fat cells doing what they need to do– you need to stimulate them. Not with an offer of a cocktail or two and a bit of a horizontal romp, but with exercise and mentally challenging activities. 

And as to the correct descriptor as to how talc is packaged… Container seemed to be the word of choice for a few folks that I polled. That doesn't quite click for me. I will mentally challenge myself, while I run up and down the stairs, do deep knee bends, and weight lift, to stimulate the retrieval of the right word.

And, as a bonus, lose the bad and add the good white matter.

“…a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy…” and a strong jawline, too boot, staving off a little nip/tuck for him.

Really.

Well, maybe not. Having no idea, actually, how old Yorick was when he met his maker…but, according to the latest findings there is more bad news for the sagging, drooping set. It’s your facial bones, which like the rest of your middle aged shrinking frame, that contributes to your jowly, hollowed eyed, oh my god what happened to my face, look.

Guess which one of those two beauties is the young one. So sad.

Drinking milk, calcium supplements, and exercising your jaw muscles by chewing vigorously, or talking incessantly, don’t appear to stave off any significant amount of bone loss. I am the poster girl for these maneuvers so I can attest to this.

Antidote?

Fluoride and flossing. That helps somewhat, the scientists offer us, for a shred of hopefulness. If you were considering a tooth, or two, removal for that higher cheekbone illusion, hmmm, not a good idea. Whew, aren’t you glad you read this! Sunken sockets accelerate bone loss.

Or something like that.

Think again.

Throw that veggie burger on the grill. Add some relish, ketchup, pickles, onions and perhaps a slice or two of cheddar and you can happily indulge in your summertime barbeque, without sacrificing a cow. You also are pretty certain that you are making a healthier choice for yourself and your loved ones.

Not so much.

It appears, according to the Cornucopia Institute, a food and agriculture nonprofit, that most non-organic veggie burgers on the market contain a chemical called Hexane. Alrighty, I'll bite (grin) what's a Hexane?

It is, apparently, an air pollutant and a neurotoxin. I am not exactly sure what a neurotoxin is, but I am pretty sure that I don't want the word toxin cozing up to the word neuro. Anyhow, the Institute has provided a list of popular veggie burgers made with Hexane.

Here's the link, you can print it out when you next go shopping.

If you had an aha moment and thought that these products are "non organic" and that must be the reason, you'd be wrong again. Apparently, the manufacturers are slipping by with "made with organic ingredients" sounding holy and noble…but alas, not.

Grill a fish. Unless, of course, it has too much mercury, or was overly farmed.

Skip the entree all together, have a s'more.

Catchy header?

It would be an important collection of letters and a number to know if you are a phlegm producing machine. Which, we all know, is a singularly undesirable, unattractive and not a good way to make friends, way to be. Unless you were Rose, standing next to Jack on the Titantic, learning how to master projectile spitting, without it dribbling down your chin. Thankfully, an act that James Cameron decided not to reprise in Avatar.

I digress.

Here is what the article I read  goes on to explain. This protein, when present in some milk, stimulates the mucus gland to overproduce.

This, I imagine, presents an interesting packaging problem for Borden’s, Organic, or any other milk manufacturing, carton designing, consumer informing, way to present their milk in the refrigerated cases. Unless, for example, their specific product came with a small packet of tissues. A spitoon would probably just take up too much room, edging out the space alloted for juices.

So then, the old wives tale about not drinking milk if you have a cold, in this case, has some merit.

Along with the one that says, ‘heartburn in pregnancy means a hairy baby’.

Really?

Really.

If that evokes a visual of Vic Tanny (am I really dating myself that much..??) okay David Barton, you’d be wrong.

Strong shoulders is the 21st c euphemism for shoulder pads. You remember shoulder pads, don’t you? The 80’s power suit. The outfits on all of the vixens on Dynasty. The accessory you wore with everything you owned. That would include your workout clothes and your nightie.

They seem to be back.

I can assure you I never sported a pair that looked like Bat wings, however.

We did think that they made us look slimmer, didn’t we? It probably has to do with the optical illusion that it diminished our hip measurements. Of course, with the invention of Spanx and Not Your Daughter’s Jeans, your hip size has been reduced. You now are a cylindrical form from the waist down, veeing out on the top.

You look like an ice cream cone. Trust me, this was not the look I was going for.

But, fashion forward that I am, I am going to dig deeply into my dresser drawer and retrieve the only pair that I didn’t burn for just this very moment.

Okay, the moment passed.

It’s back to slope shoulders for me.

Can manufacturers of beauty products survive the constant onslaught of criticism?

Apparently the answer is yes. Create a product and they will come. Advertise with the celeb du jour and they will come in droves. Promise it will take years off your face, body, feet and you buy two. Tell you it is new and improved, add two more.

Then a study comes out debunking all the product claims. Consumer reports is at it again, having tested nine facial serums finding absolutely no significant improvement after 6 weeks of use. 

What will the devotee of ointing and slathering do? Anoint and slather some more I suspect, for fear that even if it doesn't improve the condition, could it hurt?

There was some delicious irony in my hearing about the Consumer Report study and then reading about animal behavorists trying to determine ".. the distinct personalities quirks and preferences," of our fellow mammals, reptiles and insects.

Without going into the intricacies of how a scientist tags, follows and records the behavior of, lets say, a juvenile female spider, suffice it to say that figuring out why a flock of geese follow one fairly vocal goose into flight is probably not that different than seeing what your latest new best friend is bathing her body in and immediately following suit.

If you agree, honk.

Thumbing through a magazine I picked up at the doctor's office, I got to thinking about the life choices I make.  I think the magazine was called something along the lines of " Your Most Extreme Outdoor Life Ever." I suspect you can imagine where this is going.

Wow, I thought, I too could paraglide off of a mountain ledge and upon landing snow board down a triple black diamond run, while blindfolded, carrying a weeks supply of provisions to sustain me until the paramedics arrive, but not in time to set my splintered arm and leg which I did with what remained of a pair of broken skis that I recovered from inside a cave that I crawled into to prevent hypothermia. 

Are these people for real?

I do get their "if I didn't do this" I wouldn't feel alive, mantra. It's the "if I do do this I could be dead" that I struggle with.

I am carefully weighing my options. "If I" choose this path, over that path, will I have made a better choice? Surely.  But as long as I am making my choices with both feet firmly planted on the ground I figure I am ahead of the game.

No, I am not talking about your inflexibility. Nor am I talking about your being adamant about holding on to your point of view. 

Nope, I am back to the latest use of Botox. 

Apparently, Botox is more much versatile than my jar of Vaseline, which I previously thought was the most multifaceted product I've ever come across. 

But, my jar of vaseline can't do this. 

To wit, botox can do the lifting saggy breasts procedure, which apparently only works on women with smaller breasts. If one is sweating over the small sagging breast syndrome, that can be eliminated with a shot or two to the underarms, palms or face. The headache that accompanies worrying over breast size is also, poof, eradicated.

Men, who have an enlarged prostate, have used Botox to decrease its size. That would be the prostate size not the penis size. If the unfortunate side effect was the latter, would the procedure still be considered?

Apparently women who wear excessively high heels are having Botox injections to mitigate the pain associated with this decision to tower over everyone in their vicinity. 

And there are more.

Here is the latest.

Spasm Therapy. Does your elbow, wrist or fingers spasm? It temporarily paralyses these spastic muscles, which I suspect must be a better alternative to having them take on a mind of their own. Unless, ofcourse, you are a musical conductor. 

Yet again, there are the myriad of disclaimers. Warning that Botox has a potential to migrate to other parts of the body is a real concern. Loss of ones ability to breath seems to be a high price to pay, don't you agree?

Nonetheless, if Allergen is part of your investment portfolio, perhaps this explains the permanent smile on your face. 

About aging?  Beats the alternative…pops into my head, bada boom.

 How so ever, this very serious question has been posed and answered by two psychotherapists in their newly published book “Face It: What Women Really Feel as Their Looks Change.” Ostensibly, this book deals with the “paradox’ of growing old naturally or fighting the signs of aging.”

What their book appears to offer is a a six-step program helping to identify the “masks” used to cover deeper issues…bidding adieu to old definitions of beauty, and ultimately enjoying your appearance–at any age.”

I absolutely, categorically, and emphatically do not have any issue with this book. All you sagging and droopy jawed gals, go out an get a copy.

Really, if these two women analysts can resolve all my insecurities, fears and concerns in 6 easy steps, It’s fine by me.

Game, Match?

No.

The purported number that your body thinks you should, might, have, soon to return to, once upon a time weighed. If our collective memories are somewhat challenged, why is that particular area of the brain so razor sharp?

 Couldn’t it remember, say, your weight when you were going to your 25th High School reunion. You remember that moment, don’t you? Seeing all the ghosts of your past. Starving yourself into a size 4, anticipating the ahhs and ohhs of jealousy. Alas, after that event, commencing to eat for 6, returning quickly to your pre event girth. Set Point redux.

Apparently, the set point is an evolutionary phenomenon.

During times of famine, the body needs to slow down the metabolic function in order to conserve calories and preserve life. Acknowledging that it is hard to be sensitve and politically correct here I leave the rest of that sentence to you. Suffice it to say though that it is unlikely that those that shop at Zabar’s will be experiencing this phenomenon anytime soon.

What to do?

There is an adage “set your sights lower.” A negative, you can’t do this, don’t even try, statement made by those who wish to discourage.

Except, perhaps in this case.