Exercise

Mypheme Memories

Ten years ago, my friend and I launched a humorous “lifestyle” website for women called, MYPHEME. At the time, we were turning fifty and wanted to create a forum that captured an irreverent look at aging. Our initial mission statement was “We’re Not Dead, Yet”, but we felt that might have been too harsh, so we morphed it into “Tell It Like It Is”. We have always embraced the act of sharing, so the the social media arena seemed like the ideal place to go off the rails. Slightly wrinkled women of the world unite!

MYPHEME was made up of a daily blog, essays from some fabulous women writers and short, slice-of-life films, featuring our very brave friends and some arm-twisted family members. Needless to say, it did not enable us to buy a villa in Tuscany or a ginormous log cabin in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

Admitting defeat, we shelved the site 4 years later, although the short films do continue to pop up on other sites. Buzzfeed was one welcome addition as it shaved 10 years off my age and featured our MySpanx video at #7 on the 40 SIGNS YOU’RE ALMOST 40 list. We even got a trending badge! LOL!

Ten years go by in a heartbeat. I have to admit, that of all of my failed experiments, this was one of the most fun.

This Valentine’s Day, I leave you with three favorites.

 

2010 Taxi Shrink Session

 

2010 Boobs in a Drawer

 

2014 Packing My Carry-on

If you want to see more, you can binge watch all 42 short films on YouTube.

 

 

 

Can’t Bear The Thought

On a recent getaway to Nova Scotia, my friend, Marian, and I decided to rent bikes and explore some of the “off-road” Trans Canada Trails. The TCT are repurposed defunct rail lines that snake through parts of Canada. It’s a cool way to traverse the country while taking away the danger of biking on paved roads. I’m not a fan of biking in traffic. It makes me so anxious.

Five minutes into the trail, we were deep in the woods, with not a person in sight. Our well-worn hybrid bikes had seats that were super hard on the tushy, so I insisted that we only go 30 minutes out and 30 minutes back to prevent our precious pelvic floor from too much trauma…after all, the trail was a little gravel-ly. You could feel every bump.

I noticed a small bell on our handlebars and I started dinging it. Marian thought I was being annoying.”It’s a bear repellent”, I teased. “Or, a Moose repellent”, I added. And I dinged some more.

As we rode deeper into the woods, Marian accused me of being a drama queen.

“For someone who loves the outdoors, you sure have some issues”, she rightfully accused.

Marian didn’t realize that behind our idle biking chatter, I was having visions of getting trampled by a moose and being eaten by a hoard of wild coyotes.

About five miles out, and without seeing a soul in sight, we decided to turn around. We stopped at a clearing and took some pictures…mostly of each other taking pictures. A mile into our return, and about 20 yards ahead of us, a seven foot black bear came out of the woods and blocked the trail. We both saw it at the same time and abruptly stopped. The bear looked up at us and under my panicked breath I said, “Marian, we have to turn around”.

Without looking back, we took off like a rocket and biked away from the bear. I have to say, for us old bitches, it was Tour De France qualifying. We must have gone about two miles in the other direction when we came across a place where the trail intersected a paved road. We ran into a local on an ATV and trying to catch our breath, we told him what happened.

“Bears won’t do you no harm” he said, “but you have to watch out for the pack of wild coyotes. They ate a young girl here two years ago.”

So.Over.This.Ride.

We called the hotel and they sent two people to come get us and our bikes. The kind local stayed with us until they arrived.

Wouldn’t you know it, that the first thing everyone asked us when we got back was DID YOU GET A PICTURE?

WTF?

Now that a week or so has passed, I’ve used my emerging photoshop skills to recreate what Marian and I neglected to photograph.

marianbear.jpgThis is Marian taking a selfie.

But…because I’m a DRAMA queen, I did two other versions:

marianbear2.jpgLook closely at the left.

And finally, my favorite of the trip:marianbear3.jpg

Bears aren’t the only things that shit in the woods.

 

 

 

Participation Trophies

I have a shelf of my kids Participation Trophies in my family room that I keep for laughs. Why? Because I proudly admit that I raised my kids in an era where “everyone’s a winner” . Some of my children were amazing in sports and some were not. That’s how it shakes out in most families. In spite of that,  I made them all play something because I am a big believer in exercise. Were ego’s crushed due to lack of skill? Possibly. Maybe. Probably. But…they still got a trophy!

Now that my kids are grown and out of the house, I sometimes long for those days of sitting on the bleachers and screaming, “WAY TO GO!” (Yes…even when they got hit in the head with a ball). I miss the kids, I miss the crazy-ass parents, I miss those hot sweaty gyms…well, maybe not so much, but those were times that weren’t really about trophies and winning. They were about team play, growing up and a lot of fun, sideline-socializing.

Believe it or not, one of my kids still plays Rec Sports. During the week, he’s an emerging corporate executive, but on the weekends, he’s playing basketball in an adult league on a team that includes many of his former high school rec team ballers. Last week, for the very first time, I went and watched these “adult” rec ballers play in a sweaty, Hell’s Kitchen, public school gym.

Some of these guys were really hairy and bald all at the same time. Not quite how I remembered those idyllic high school games. In the absence of other parents, I cheered from the sideline and shot a bit of video from my new iPhone. Needless to say, my son’s team lost by more than 20 points. A “blow-out” so to speak.

When I got home, I edited the few filmed highlights together. I added some sound effects and created a new kind of Participation Trophy. I think the JUST KRISTAPS Rec team is all that and then some. They’re all winners as far as I’m concerned.

 

 

Making The Middle-Aged Hot List

A few years ago, while building a humorous website targeted towards aging women, I filmed a short of myself trying on a pair of Spanx. I did it because I wanted to show our web developers that middle-aged women will do and share ridiculous things that celebrate a self deprecating appreciation of growing old. I really didn’t think it was that funny, but our 20-30 something developers thought it was hysterical. In fact, they encouraged me to launch the website with it. “No one will know it’s you” they promised…except of course, my friends who announced things like, “You’ve got balls sister” ,“Are you outta your mind?” and “What kind of hormones are you on?”

Needless to say, we launched the site with MySpanx as our opening video feature and Kaboom, my ass went around the world. It really wasn’t the kind of share I expected. When I landed on a Danish car building site, I thought that having some “power-in-the-tank” was really misinterpreted, but that’s what happens when you release something on the internet for the public to see.

The true highlight came when BuzzFeed picked it up. I found out about the link when I received a panicked phone call from my daughter at work.

MY DAUGHTER: OMG Mom, YOU’RE ON BUZZ FEED! YOU MADE THE HOTLIST!

ME: Whaat?

MY DAUGHTER: YOU’RE BUTT HAS GONE VIRAL. I’M SENDING YOU THE LINK.

ME: Whaat?

MY DAUGHTER: You’re 7th on a list of 40 SIGNS YOU’RE ALMOST 40!

ME: Almost 40? I’m NORTH OF 50.

MY DAUGHTER: Who cares? You already have over a million hits!

I wanted to get excited about all the hits but truthfully, I just wanted to thank the BuzzFeed editor who deducted a decade.

Droop Scoop

“My boobs look great when I’m immersed in water.” 

Advancing age, weight loss and pregnancy can cause a condition medically known as Breast Ptosis, aka the droop. Did you know that there are different degrees of breast ptosis? All sags are not the same, so to speak.

Say whaaat?

Here is how you measure yourself. You need a 12 inch ruler (make sure it has centimeters) and a mirror.

Take your shirt and bra off and find your inframammary crease (the fold line just under your breasts where they meet your chest).

Place the ruler in the crease, directly against the junction of the breast and ribcage.

Let your breasts hang over the ruler, and look at yourself in a mirror. The ruler marks your inframammary crease.

If your nipple is slightly above or directly in front of the top of the ruler, you may have Grade 1 ptosis. This is considered mild.

If the central point of your nipple is 1 to 3 cm below the top of your breast crease, you may have Grade 2 ptosis. This is considered mild to moderate.

If the central point of your nipple and your areola (the colored area around your nipple) is more than 3 cm below your breast crease, you may have Grade 3 ptosis. This is considered severe. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. I tend to disagree. Severe is when you can hold a 2 liter bottle of Diet Coke under your inframammary crease and pour a few drinks.

My Grandmother (may she rest in peace) had severe ptosis. When I was 10, I was staying at her house one night. While she was taking a bath, she called out to me to come in and get her cushioned bath head pillow off of the counter. As I walked in, I saw her lift her breast out of the bubbles and wash underneath her inframammary area. It looked like she was playing the cello. It would be an understatement to say it made an indelible mark on me. On the plus side, it did peak my interest in the science of genetics and the importance of a great and who-cares-what-it-costs bra.

Like grades really matter.

 

Quasibloato

I love waking up in the morning. The air is crisp. The birds are chirping and my stomach is flat…until, of course, I start EATING. That’s a four minute window and it’s way too short.

Face it. We may be the superior race, but we definitely got ripped off in the perpetual flat ab category. I know its not fair, but women are just prone to bloating. That hormone thing, at any age, pushes all of our buttons. There’s nothing like bloating to make you want to hide in the nearest bell tower.

Well, F**k that.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not a fan of feeling sluggish and uncomfortable, so I uncovered a few anti-bloat tips that I wanted to share.

The bottom line is, our digestive system simply cannot process everything, (and yes, that includes the 6 french fries off of your friends plate) so you have to know the limitation of yours.  With that in mind, here’s a list of:

Bloating Dos and Don’ts

Don’t skip meals. 
Drink plenty of water (non-carbonated). 
Chew your food thoroughly. 
Don’t talk and chew at the same time. (it causes you to swallow air, which causes more gas). 
Avoid carbonated beverages, chewing gum, highly spiced foods, and too many sweets (I know…Total kill joy here). 
Eat only peeled, cooked seedless fruits and vegetables.
 Limit beans, corn (including popcorn), and nuts and vegetables in the cabbage and onion families, including broccoli and garlic.

And last but not least…
Avoid dairy products, BECAUSE a majority of people are lactose intolerant.

Since I eat almost everything that you’re supposed to avoid,  I tend to try this quick fix first which is an…

Exercise To Relieve Bloating

Lie flat on your back and bring your left knee to your chest while keeping your right leg as close to the floor as possible. Hug your left knee to the count of 20. Release and repeat with your right knee. Alternate knees for 5 times or more, depending on the severity of symptoms.

If you’re lucky, you’ll move the bloat up or out, (often embarrassingly audible) or to an acceptable place like your feet. Truthfully, when I’m not feeling too holistic, I’ll pop a Gas-X. Next to coffee, it’s my drug of choice.