Ageing and getting older.
The golden chapters of one’s life.
It seems I’ve been talking about growing
old up quite a bit lately.
Could it be I’m beginning to feel the strain of attempting to vinify like fine wine? I realise there will come a day when sheetmasks can no longer eradicate the aftermath of a scant 3, 4 hours of sleep or (she quietly confesses), the consequences of going to bed without removing the gunk from one’s face. When the lure of a needle may very well silence the fear of judgement and appeal to the narcissist in me which, I’m well aware, lurks barely below the surface of my vanity.
I suspect all these thoughts have to do with several factors, not the least being that end this month, I intend to go for a procedure called CoolSculpting.
HOLD THE BULLETS
I LOOK CROSS-EYED IN THE FIRST PICTURE GRIN
So, yes, hold your fire.
It’s been on my mind for some time. This weight that I’ve gained. Over the past 12 months, I’ve gone from 110lbs to 160lbs, and I wish it’d been as a result of consuming more sweeties than are good for me, or over-indulging in carbs. At least, in those instances, I would’ve enjoyed myself in the process. Instead, the tipping of scales has been due to my health. A non-functioning thryoid gland as well as hormonal rollercoaster rides made worse by being forced to take steroids to stay alive amidst Angioedema and Lupus flare-ups.
IT SUCKS. QUITE A BIT.
A downstream consequence of taking Prednisone for extended timeframes is steroid-induced osteoporosis, and I fear that’s what’s happened to my knees. It may not be obvious from these photos but I actually need help getting up when seated. And when I stand up, I have to pause for 10-15 seconds before I can walk. I can no longer kneel or sit on the floor. I just drop my ass down, for lack of a more genteel description GRIN and whenever I do cardio, I’ll pay for it dearly. Which doesn’t necessarily stop me but it’s a pain. Literally.
And that’s why I’ve opted to do CoolSculpting. Take some load off my knees before they completely give way and I lose them permanently. I’m sorry. I didn’t set out writing today’s post with the intention of being so serious and sombre but sometimes, that’s how the land lies. I toyed long and hard about sharing this. I never know how much is too much, and whether I ought reveal only the happy bits, you know. Or only the challenges which have since been overcome with white picket fences.
But as we all know, I am nothing if not forthcoming. For better or for worse 🙂
BY THE BY, WHAT'S YOUR TAKE ON BOTOX?
p/s photos by Sofia Touassa
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