Diary of a five year old soul - My life according to 50s
New ingredients to modify my recipes!
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Quinoa and oatmeal flour pancakes with blueberries. There is no butter and no egg yolks.
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A new road to follow! Maybe it is time to alternate between roads. After all I am wearing my red shoes!
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It is a good thing to breathe. I breathe in. I breathe out. I breathe in life, health, love, peace, and those things that makes us feel heavenly sweet. I breathe out everyone I have in my black list, injustice, intolerance, hate, and again those in the black list. Actually, I never knew I had one. Marco says I do. But this is just because I keep my space protected from human attack to my being. I am not a masochist nor a saint, not even a heroin about to happen. I am just a woman that happens to be over five "O".
I feel happy and comfortable in my skin. I am not an alien to my body. I am the host and the guest simultaneously. I treat it nicely without any compulsions of any type. I can't. I try to live in it with balance, meaning a little bit of this, and a little bit of that. If life is my gift for now, I do not want to screw it up with too much of anything but at the same time I want to enjoy it.
Yes, I want to enjoy it as if I was eternally five years old, but as I breath in once more I realized that now the 5 is followed by another number. It does not bother me. Time and age have never been my enemies. I love them both. I just live life dwelled in the moment. If I have to cry, I cry until there are no more tears. If I have to scream, I scream until my lungs are empty. If I have to laugh, I laugh until everyone is laughing. Time or age has nothing to do as to how I feel in body, soul, and mind. It is just a reminder that… Well, how can I put it nicely ? Yes, it is time for check ups of all kinds.
I go to our family doctor to get a prescription for blood exams of all kinds! For the blues, the yellows, the greens, and the reds. I figured it is better to have a colorful chart rather than specific names such as diabetes, liver function, etc. Once there I ask her lots of questions about things that if you read in the internet leaves you more confused than ever. I leave the office pleased by her care.
The next day, no breakfast before the blood tests. I pack my cookies, banana, yogurt, and a mega bottle of water. I get there. I commence my day in line A in order to get to line B for payment to be able to go in and wait in room C for my number to be called. It is easier than it sounds, and way cheaper than any health insurance co-payment in the USA. I breath in once again and thank the Italian health service. I see my number on the screen. I go in. I give her my arm. She taps the veins, looks at me and says good visible veins. I am already looking the other way while listening the tapping of the little bottles which happens to be many of them… Done, she says. I thank her while ready to attack my breakfast bag.
It is Friday, Marco goes to pick up my results. They tell him I have to get them unless he has a valid consent and photocopy of my document. I send him what they asked. An hour later he calls me. I have good news and not so good. Oh? I say. Your blood sugar level is perfect. Your liver is beautiful. Your hormones are getting there just as you suspected. And your cholesterol is really high. Then he says, I could have never guessed your cholesterol is that high. Oh? How high? I ask. Really high, Marco says. I do not say a word. He then says, when I get home I show you all the numbers. In the mean time, Marco shows them to a Dr. and he says the same "high".
Later on that day, I go to our family doctor. I am in her waiting room reading recipes from the magazines she keeps in her office. Finally it is my turn to come in. She looks at my blood tests results. She looks at me and says you need to go on a diet. Diet? I have never ever used that word in my vocabulary. Oh? I say. Well, your total cholesterol is 250 even thou the good one is 90. However, I want you on a diet for two months. After that period you do the blood test again. Can you tell me what do you usually eat? Do you eat eggs? - "Facebook update status" knows better than me- I could have a foggy memory by my sinful habits. I do. I love eggs I usually have two eggs in the weekend. During the week I make a frittata I use four eggs mixed with skim milk. I make pancakes, Does the eggs I use in the batter counts? Yes, she answers. Then I guess like ten eggs? I say. What about butter. Do you use butter? I shrink my shoulders, almost in an under tone, I say yes. Not more butter. Cheese? I do eat a lot of it. I love cheese! Then I ask to her, can I eat goat cheese? She looks at me and tells me that particular cheese has the highest saturated fat. And to think I use it everywhere. In my frittatas. In my salty tarts. In my sandwiches. So no milkshake I suppose. You are right, none for now. At this point I do not tell her how many croissants I eat in a day nor less in a week. It is my everyday ritual of contemplation while I doodle ideas in my notepad.
I leave her office thinking about my milkshake and at this point my cappuccinos. Both are made with whole milk. While walking back to Marco's office I call him. I am officially on a diet for two months. Do you think I can carry with me a container of skim milk when I go to Gelateria Macumba? Marco says nothing. Silence. Hello? Marco? then he adds, "you can have a granita".
I feel happy and comfortable in my skin. I am not an alien to my body. I am the host and the guest simultaneously. I treat it nicely without any compulsions of any type. I can't. I try to live in it with balance, meaning a little bit of this, and a little bit of that. If life is my gift for now, I do not want to screw it up with too much of anything but at the same time I want to enjoy it.
Yes, I want to enjoy it as if I was eternally five years old, but as I breath in once more I realized that now the 5 is followed by another number. It does not bother me. Time and age have never been my enemies. I love them both. I just live life dwelled in the moment. If I have to cry, I cry until there are no more tears. If I have to scream, I scream until my lungs are empty. If I have to laugh, I laugh until everyone is laughing. Time or age has nothing to do as to how I feel in body, soul, and mind. It is just a reminder that… Well, how can I put it nicely ? Yes, it is time for check ups of all kinds.
I go to our family doctor to get a prescription for blood exams of all kinds! For the blues, the yellows, the greens, and the reds. I figured it is better to have a colorful chart rather than specific names such as diabetes, liver function, etc. Once there I ask her lots of questions about things that if you read in the internet leaves you more confused than ever. I leave the office pleased by her care.
The next day, no breakfast before the blood tests. I pack my cookies, banana, yogurt, and a mega bottle of water. I get there. I commence my day in line A in order to get to line B for payment to be able to go in and wait in room C for my number to be called. It is easier than it sounds, and way cheaper than any health insurance co-payment in the USA. I breath in once again and thank the Italian health service. I see my number on the screen. I go in. I give her my arm. She taps the veins, looks at me and says good visible veins. I am already looking the other way while listening the tapping of the little bottles which happens to be many of them… Done, she says. I thank her while ready to attack my breakfast bag.
It is Friday, Marco goes to pick up my results. They tell him I have to get them unless he has a valid consent and photocopy of my document. I send him what they asked. An hour later he calls me. I have good news and not so good. Oh? I say. Your blood sugar level is perfect. Your liver is beautiful. Your hormones are getting there just as you suspected. And your cholesterol is really high. Then he says, I could have never guessed your cholesterol is that high. Oh? How high? I ask. Really high, Marco says. I do not say a word. He then says, when I get home I show you all the numbers. In the mean time, Marco shows them to a Dr. and he says the same "high".
Later on that day, I go to our family doctor. I am in her waiting room reading recipes from the magazines she keeps in her office. Finally it is my turn to come in. She looks at my blood tests results. She looks at me and says you need to go on a diet. Diet? I have never ever used that word in my vocabulary. Oh? I say. Well, your total cholesterol is 250 even thou the good one is 90. However, I want you on a diet for two months. After that period you do the blood test again. Can you tell me what do you usually eat? Do you eat eggs? - "Facebook update status" knows better than me- I could have a foggy memory by my sinful habits. I do. I love eggs I usually have two eggs in the weekend. During the week I make a frittata I use four eggs mixed with skim milk. I make pancakes, Does the eggs I use in the batter counts? Yes, she answers. Then I guess like ten eggs? I say. What about butter. Do you use butter? I shrink my shoulders, almost in an under tone, I say yes. Not more butter. Cheese? I do eat a lot of it. I love cheese! Then I ask to her, can I eat goat cheese? She looks at me and tells me that particular cheese has the highest saturated fat. And to think I use it everywhere. In my frittatas. In my salty tarts. In my sandwiches. So no milkshake I suppose. You are right, none for now. At this point I do not tell her how many croissants I eat in a day nor less in a week. It is my everyday ritual of contemplation while I doodle ideas in my notepad.
I leave her office thinking about my milkshake and at this point my cappuccinos. Both are made with whole milk. While walking back to Marco's office I call him. I am officially on a diet for two months. Do you think I can carry with me a container of skim milk when I go to Gelateria Macumba? Marco says nothing. Silence. Hello? Marco? then he adds, "you can have a granita".