Black Holes, Worm Holes and Anti-Aging Secrets

When I was young(er), in my teens and 20s, pre-mommy-hood, there were certain phrases that women in their 40s and 50s would utter that would cause my eyes to roll so far back into my brain that I would become apoplectic. (Yeah, you know who you are.)

For instance, in the break room at work, as I licked pizza grease from my fingers after polishing off my third slice and surreptitiously slurped down a large fountain Pepsi, an aged coworker would munch on her carrot stick, shake her short head of hair and tsk-tsk, saying, "Just wait until you hit thirty. Then you won't be able to eat like that any more!"

Now that I am a well over half way past thirty (I'm hoping to confuse everyone with that long-winded description instead of simply stating my age) I still roll my eyes. I can still inhale three slices of pizza and not resemble a beached whale. My metabolism seems to be hanging in there, as my weight stays the same.

Perhaps I should mention though, my weight is actually 15 to 20 pounds higher than what it was in my 20s and I haven't been able to lose any of it. (And yes, this also coincides with me being more than 30 years of age.) But do I blame that on a slower metabolism? Of course not! Because I'm evolved and mature? Of course not! I blame my children, New York winters, and a pesky thyroid condition. In that order.

For years, the nurses in the doctor's offices would move the tab at the top of the scale over to the 100 slot, and then proceed with the numbers on the bottom portion. (If you're too young to know what kind of scale I'm speaking of and have only ever seen digital scales, then go eff yourself.) A couple of years ago, after I shed some of the weight I had gained during my back-to-back pregnancies, I felt pretty good about myself, only had to reinvent 65 percent of my wardrobe (and 90 percent of THAT was due to the pure hideousness of early 2000s fashion), and accepted the fact my stomach would never reveal any of the rock-hard abs underneath it no matter how many crunches I did.

Then I went to the doctors one day and had to curb the inner Hulk in me when the nurse, without any hesitation whatsoever, flicked the little tab way over to the 150 slot as the starting point. What the ? Could you at least start off at 100 and pretend to be unsure you unfeeling, uncaring, unsympathetic she-witch?

With that ugly little incident behind me, I made some changes. I cleaned our pantry out, eliminated high-fructose corn syrup and many processed foods, I stopped buying soda, I started drinking a lot of water every day, and I integrated a moderate-to-lame workout routine into my weekly schedule all in the hopes I would still be able to eat like a 17-year-old boy and not see my weight skyrocket.

Did it work? Eh. Well, I haven't gained any weight. My doctor didn't ask me IF I'd been working out, he asked WHAT I was doing because I looked more toned and muscular. But that digital scale? It revealed, to my dismay, that my weight had not changed.

Ok. So I'm not 25 anymore. It's not like I want to look like a waif, but would it be so horrible if five pounds went bye-bye? After all, I have mastered the art of stopping time, as evidenced by my wrinkle-free, not over-30 looking face. (In case you want to know, I do not use any expensive facial creams, I just squeeze my eyes shut and will my skin to not age. What? Did you think I had some sort of time-stopping theory worked out that would make Stephen Hawking's head explode? I lasted two days in physics class people!)

Rather than try to figure any of this out, I decided to invest in some more yoga pants, dig out my Spanx, and settle in to a life of not caring what the scale said. So, I guess I'm evolved and mature after all. And you know what happened?

Yep. I lost weight.

Did I squeeze my eyes shut and will myself five pounds lighter?

Nope.

Did I invent a cosmic black-worm hole thingy that magically reversed the aging process while simultaneously speeding up metabolism?

Pffft no, but that would be great if someone who actually took, and passed, physics could invent that. Yeah, that'd be great.

So? What was it? (I know you're dying to know.)

STOMACH FLU!

Yes, thanks to you, you awful, gut-wrenching, stomach churning wave of nausea that has been with me for five days now, my skinny jeans have never been skinnier.

And to those looking for dieting or weight-loss advice, clearly I do not have that, but if you want to borrow my kids for a weekend so you too can harness the power of the stomach flu, well, you just let me know.