My Life with a New Age Health Nut

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My Life with a New Age Health Nut

Post by BC Williams on Mon 14 Mar 2011, 7:38 pm

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My husband has decided that we're not going to just sit back and age gracefully. He says we have to fight this thing as if the world depended on us being around for another hundred years, or so. Oh, it's not that we don't still look good. Frank's six-foot-two, slim with age-hardened brawn and wears his sixty as if it was forty-five. I was forty-five, once . . . .

Though I'm not quite petite, I complement him and work at staying slim. Frank loves my auburn hair -- it's so easy to fool a man! -- and he says it goes well with my sassy brown eyes.

It's hard though as we watch some of our contemporaries take a reposed attitude toward aging. Funny thing when a maturing person decides to give in to the aging process and the inevitable starts happening; things start sliding around looking for a shelf to rest on. Frank has all that covered. He states that, "I look great and I've got the supplements and exercise equipment to prove it!"

Recently, he's been on a campaign to rekindle his old flame. That'd be me. One morning last week as we sat in the kitchen, Frank reading his morning paper and me sipping my third cup of coffee, he said, "Honey, did you know there's a special coffee that's not meant for oral ingestion?"

"No, I didn't." I figured he was heading somewhere with this so I added, "Frank, I'm not up to any of that crazy alternative healing stuff right now. Please, just let me have my headache with a cup of coffee."

I never know what he's going to say anymore. Ever since he started visiting that Chinese health practitioner, Dr. Moy Fooi, he's gone "new age." He scared the heck out of me last Saturday when he was doing his Tai Chi workout and got stuck in the lotus position.

Anyway, then he says, "It's a little known fact that most people have eight to twenty pounds of stuff' trapped in their colons that could be removed with coffee enemas."

"Frank!" I bawled, as my coffee cup fell from my hand and hot, mocha color vomited all over my pink peignoir.

"Honey, oh-my-good-lands! Let me help you with that." Suddenly, he was springing at me with his used Bounty Towel muttering, "My goodness, Ann, get it up . . . no, take it off . . .here!" He dab-shoved the Times at my naked torso and rushed toward the bathroom blaring, "I'll grab the Bag Balm."

By the time my gallant husband came back, I'd drop-squatted, praying the nosey neighbors hadn't seen me through the French doors.

Later, I lay sprawled on the bed with the sheet skirting my tinged tummy. Frank came in with his clean, cologned, impeccably ready-for-work self.

"Honey," he said, while lowering half a hip onto our bed and folding his hands in his lap. "I'm so sorry about what happened earlier. I guess it wasn't the time or place. It's just . . . I've noticed how sluggish you've been, lately."

"Frank, stop it. My bathroom habits are none . . . ."

"No, no Ann, that's not what I'm talking about, for goodness sake. I meant your mood, and the occasional headaches you have and your complexion."

"What! And just what is that supposed to mean? What's the matter with my complexion?" I said, hurt that he'd brought that up.

"See, you see that? Look how quickly your temper flares. Settle down, honey. I'm just trying to say I've noticed a little sallowness lately, that's all, and maybe a couple of tiny . . . but cute . . . ."

I was glaring at him, and he knew very well I'd shove him into the hole he was digging.

" cute? . . . ." he fell off. "Oh, well, really - your skin looks good. Anyway, did you know that poisoned and toxic blood is the number one cause of premature aging?"

"No, I didn't know that, but I'm sure you're going to tell me all about it, aren't you?" I said, wondering what poisoned blood had to do with coffee enemas.

Frank walked over to the bureau and pulled out a small paperback book. "Here's the key to longevity." he said, fanning the pages of his latest purchase from Dr. Fooi. " Take a look at it, honey," he said, as he placed the thing on the bed beside me, "maybe you'll find out why you feel so bad all the time."

"Frank, I don't feel bad all the time. It's just that , well . . .." I was unsure of what to say. It was true. I wasn't as perky as I once was and I had noticed my skin changing again, but isn't it supposed to at my age?

He smiled, aware of my uneasiness. "You don't feel bad to me, either," he whispered, leaning over, brushing my lips with a kiss and tickling me behind the ear with a mock vampire bite. I tittered. Then, as if I was a fresh powered baby's bottom, he planted one of those obscene sounding open-mouthed, suctioning lips-to-skin jobs -- right between . . . "uh-OH, my!"

He bailed out of bed before I could swat him.

"Oooo, you're bad! You better get out of here, Frank. You don't want to be late for work."

"Okay, you old grouch," he laughed devilishly. "Oh, listen, don't bother with dinner tonight, hon, okay? I'd like to treat my best girl to that juice bar I've been going to on my lunch breaks. Wow look at the time! Gotta get going. See you later, babe." And with a wink, he was gone.

I knew I shouldn't just lay there. I needed to get up and get some laundry done, but I decided to peek at the book and then I'd get moving. It had a blatantly interesting title:

Discovered: The Fountain of Youth
How to have a healthy colon and feel young again.

By Darryl Divall

I skimmed its pages like an uninterested school kid, but learned that a clean colon does help the blood to be pure. Impure blood leads to possible disease and premature aging. Mr. Divall had a who's who list of famous proponents: Lisa Ling, Kenny Loggins, and even Marlon Brando, who all subscribe to an occasional cleansing. The list went on and shockingly on! Not for me, I thought. God made that a one way street for a reason.

Frank picked me up at 5:30, that evening. I wasn't really in to going out for liquefied rabbit food, but Frank surely was. He'd been going to the juice bar for a couple of months and I had to admit, it did seem to benefit him. When we arrived at Unique Refreshments, I was rather surprised at the largeness of the building in contrast to the moderately small size of the dining room. Frank chose a corner booth for us and we seated ourselves.

The service was prompt, for almost immediately, a tall, blondish thirty-something waitress named Kim stepped up. "Hi, Mr. McCormick. You here for the special?" She glanced at me and smiled sweetly.

"Yes, the special Kim, and I'd like to introduce to you my beautiful wife, Ann."

"Hello, Mrs. McCormick." she said offering her hand. "If there's anything you need, just holler. I'll be right back with two Juicy Starts. You'll have about twenty minutes waiting time this evening Mr. McCormick, okay?"

After Kim was gone and I'd settled into the atmosphere, I asked, "Frank, why in the world would it take twenty minutes to make two smoothies?"

"It's not that, Ann, there's more to it. The Juicy Start is the beginning of a process, which -"

"Here ya go, Mr. and Mrs. McCormick," interrupted our waitress. "Enjoy!"

As she walked away, I said, "That girl sure doesn't know how to tell time, does she?" I didn't give Frank a chance to explain. I took one look at the green, goopy-looking stuff and excused myself to the ladies room.

When I got back, there was a young male and female dressed in matching Caribbean style smocks, casually conversing with Frank. They smiled and stepped aside as I seated myself.

"Honey, this is Stephanie and Thomas. They'll be our attendants tonight."

I slowly leaned across the table and whisper-hissed, "What are you talking about, Frank? Attendants -- for what?"

"Annie, there's something I've been meaning to tell you . . .." The rest was a blur. I heard him say he'd been coming for more than just smoothies; he'd been taking colon hydrotherapy treatments. The next thing I remember is Stephanie carting me off to the back of the building where I heard a high "C" note, and I'm pretty sure it came from me.

Early the next morning as Frank tried the old, Honey, I can make you feel better cuddle, I stoically spat, "Frank, I'll never forgive you for getting me into that."

"Aw, Annie," he soothed "there's nothing to be embarrassed about, Honey. You've been telling me I look so healthy -- and now you know one of the reasons why. Guess I should have told you a long time ago - you'd have thought I was nuts, but I just thought . . . Oh, I'm sorry Ann."

I rolled toward him, pouting, not wanting to hear the sweetness in his voice and sarcastically fired, "Frank, do I look any different? Are the 'cute' wrinkles gone and the sallow skin? Did my little dip in your Fountain of Youth do any good?"

"Babe, listen. Youth is as much a mind set as anything. Nothing's a panacea, but we are aging and there are things we can do to slow the process."

"You're not answering me, Frank."

"Okay, what I see is a mature, beautiful woman with a new sparkle in her eyes and pretty pink cheeks."

"That pink, is because you're infuriating me! Why did you drag me into that?"

"Because I care about you - and, I wanted to share this part of my health care with you. It wasn't right for me to expose you the way I did . . . and for that, I'm sorry, Annie. You don't have to go again if you don't want, but tell me, don't you feel better this morning?"

"Well, I slept better." I grumbled.

"And how about that morning headache you think only a cup a Joe can help?" he said, sliding a hand under my head, pulling himself to me.

"It's Sunday, Frank. S'pose Joe can wait awhile. . .."

2006 by BC Williams

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