Category Archives: Aging

When your esthetician actually compliments your skin

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Since about 2013, I’ve been getting a facial about once a year to treat myself. There have been some anomalies where I’ve gotten two facials in a year, but that was either because I got a second one because of President’s Club at my last company, or because some friends wanted to have a spa day together. Then in 2024, I got referred to a skin clinic in Midtown Manhattan by a friend, and I really liked the esthetician who worked with me. Since then, I’ve committed to about two-ish facials per year, plus a few laser treatments since in my middle age, I’ve discovered a little hidden body dysmorphia (I have a great track record for being slow to almost everything…). In this entire time, I’ve pretty much never gotten any compliments on my skin other than that I’ve always looked young for my age. (I will note that when I went to my first and only dermatologist appointment back in October, the doctor said my “skin looks great!” But alas, she said this in the context of moles and potential skin cancer, so take that with a grain of salt). Other than that, most previous estheticians have told me that I have “very congested” skin, or a congested nose (I mean, I do have Asian genes, so this tracks). And in the last few years, I’ve been told that my oily skin has morphed into “combination skin,” meaning that I am dry in some parts but oily in others. So, this has been a lot of fun!

So yesterday, I went in for a facial with my now-regular esthetician. And after the full facial treatment, she took a few photos for me and compared these to when I first started seeing her in mid-2024. And she said to me, “Yvonne, your skin is looking so good! It’s so much brighter than it was before. Just look at these before vs. now photos. Have you been doing something different to your skin lately?”

Well, yes. I started an Australian 20 percent azelaic acid cream every morning since the end of December. And then I started 0.025 percent Tretinoin two days after my birthday in January for about four days per week, so I guess I have been doing a lot that is more intense and different for my skin than before. So maybe this is what is making it “brighter?” I have no idea. I look at my face every single day and probably scrutinize it more than I should, but if she didn’t show me the photos, I likely would have thought my skin was never going to do any better than it did in 2024.

It does feel good when an objective other person can share with you that something about you is improving for the better, though. I hope my skin health keeps up!

The high protein life

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One of my friends who has an insulin resistance recently gifted me three boxes of bean-based dry pasta: they are chickpea, edamame (soybean!), and black bean based. She told me that given her health condition, she actually doesn’t have any regular (wheat) pasta at home, so this is all she has when she says she eats pasta at home. I tried the edamame spaghetti and used it for this oven roasted tomato sauce I’d made about a month ago and defrosted. Chris tried the pasta before I did, so I asked him what he thought.

“The sauce is very good,” Chris said to me.

“Okay,” I started, “But what about the pasta?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “The sauce is very good.”

Okay, so he hated the pasta. Then he eventually elaborated, saying that the edamame pasta was clearly not going to fool anyone who knew what “the real thing” tasted like. He said it felt like he was “eating for the sake of eating.”

Then, I tried the pasta with my homemade sauce, and I understood what he meant. It just didn’t have that nice mouthfeel and texture that durum wheat-based pasta has. Plus the texture was very questionable. I cooked it al dente according to the box cooking time, and this pasta… just felt like a lighter form of leather.

But I’m still going to keep going with this, and I will most definitely use and cook the two remaining bean based pastas. Today, I tried the tofu bread rolls I made from Hetty Lui McKinnon’s Linger cookbook. These tofu bread rolls are made with zero dairy or eggs: the majority of the dough is just silken tofu and bread flour for high gluten development (i.e. extra, extra fluffiness and lift). And while the texture and fluffiness were very good, I think it may have needed some extra sugar to be more of a standard dinner roll-type bread. I couldn’t imagine eating this bread plain on its own; it definitely either needed a high quality, salted butter, or a fruity jam.

So, this is the high protein life I am exploring. It’s an interesting one, and I am definitely learning a lot about how the foods we know can evolve!

A sore left hip flexor, and when cortisol spikes in middle age due to slowing metabolism

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I only did one run this week on Wednesday, which isn’t normal for my weekly workout routine. I did my usual warm up, then as soon as the run was done, I could tell my left hip flexor was tight. Then annoyingly, it remained tight all day… through today. I’ve never had a tightness in my left hip flexor before. After weaning from breastfeeding and doing more high intensity runs back in 2023, I discovered tightness on the right side for the first time in my life. The amazing trainer at my gym gave me suggestions for strengthening exercises for my glutes, hamstrings, and hip flexor to prevent the tightness. In addition, I did more hip flexor stretches and incorporated a yoga session per week to increase mobility. That seemed to do the trick: I cannot remember the last time my right hip flexor was sore. But now, it seems my left hip flexor is crying out for help, asking, “Hey! Remember me! You need to help me, too!” Those exercises I did for my right side were also done on my left side, too. So this may just be a new weakness I’ve identified that may need to be addressed in a slightly different way.

Aging is a gift. Not everyone is lucky enough to see their next birthday, to live up to the age you or I am at. And I’ve embraced it with more confidence every year. But I will be honest: identifying these new changes in my body and trying to figure out how to troubleshoot them have not been very fun. I am extremely active, exercise far more than the average person does, and try to take care of myself the best I can to ensure optimal health and fitness. But finding out about all these new physiological shifts of midlife, such as declining estrogen that slow metabolism, is challenging. Just a few years ago, if I knew I needed to burn some extra fat, I would just do a harder, more intense run and for longer. I’d do barre or pilates fusion until it burned. And it always worked then. This isn’t the case anymore, and it isn’t that simple where I am now. I’ve already been going hard for the last few months since coming back from Australia and the Philippines, and I’ve only lost about 3-4 pounds out of the eight I wanted to lose. The extra belly fat is just stuck there and doesn’t want to leave. No one else would notice it other than me, though. Running more intensely is NOT producing fat loss because it doesn’t address this age-related shifts that slow metabolism. Plus at this age, steady-state running can even spike cortisol levels, signaling that the body needs to protect itself and guard the fat more, especially in the abdominal area. I guess that’s why I have a little more pudge around my lower waist than I did pre-weaning.

I guess I will need to embrace brisk incline walks a couple times a week now, in place of 2-3x week runs. I will see if it results in any change because I have a feeling my cortisol must be spiking. I suppose this is the right attitude: test and learn, test and shift when things don’t work! These are the new things I am learning to live with — the fact that I cannot control all the changes happening to my body as easily as I did before.

Sluggish two days later

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On Friday night when we had dinner and a comedy show with friends, our friends got to the restaurant early enough for Happy Hour, so they ordered a bunch of items off the Happy Hour menu, including two orders of Korean fried chicken that came with two buckets of beer, for a total of ten beers. I figured they would get a single order of fried chicken with the beers, but I didn’t realize they would get two buckets. I had asked my friend to order me a specific Happy Hour cocktail without realizing they got so many beers. And because I hate waste, I felt bad leaving so many beers behind. So I decided that on top of my cocktail, I would have a beer… and then I opened a second beer and probably had a quarter to half of it. During dinner and the show, i felt completely fine. I did not turn red (no, I don’t get Asian glow). I felt sober and clear-headed.

That was until the next morning, when I woke up feeling sluggish in the mind and body. I wasn’t in pain, and I did not have that “hung over” feeling. It wasn’t like I couldn’t think straight, but I definitely did not feel good or refreshed in the slightest bit. I just felt… off. I could still follow conversations, do my usual tasks, and even did some yoga that morning. But “off” is the only word I can use to fully describe how I felt. And if that was not enough, today, which is two days later, I still don’t feel right. It’s like a foggy brain without being fully foggy, if that makes any sense at all. My motivation to do anything productive is extremely low. And given it was threatening to rain and did rain today, we ended up staying indoors all Sunday. I made one dish, and that was it.

I wonder if I would still feel this way if I didn’t actually know I was 40. I feel like because I know I am in my 40s now that I’m feeling more of these “your metabolism is slowing” feelings. As I read, your metabolism doesn’t just fall off a cliff at 40; that’s not really how metabolism works. It slows gradually over your late 20s, 30s, 40s, and 50s. Regardless, this wasn’t a great feeling, especially as I’ve actively cut back on alcohol in the new year. And I don’t think I can drink that much anymore — for my mental clarity, but also for my general fitness goals.

Friends for all different reasons

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Last night, Chris and I went out with our two friends for dinner and a comedy show (Jo Koy!) at Radio City Music Hall. We were talking about how I recently came back from my 40th birthday girls trip with two of my best friends, and they asked me how it went. And I answered it the way I’ve been answering it with everyone I’ve talked about it with since coming back.

“I had a lot of fun,” I said. “I loved the cave spa at the hotel. We caught up on a lot of things. But my main takeaway from the trip was that it served as a reminder to me that they’re my childhood friends.”

We have friends that come out of lots of different periods of our lives — growing up through our parents’ friends’ kids, relatives’ friends’ kids, classmates, friends through common interest extracurriculars; then, as you get older, you meet friends at college, through friends of friends, social events you attend, work, and the list goes on. But the friends you make during childhood and may be lucky enough to take into adulthood and beyond — they are your friends because you happened to be together at a certain time and place out of circumstances out of your control. So, in many ways, you were all kind of forced to be together. With that, you carry and share history together, and given this, they become more like your family rather than friends you chose because of aligned values or life perspectives.

In this trio, we fall into the same familiar and oftentimes annoying familial patterns that are almost sibling like. I tend to be the leader, making all travel arrangements and setting up itineraries, restaurant reservations, and coordinating times for what activities happen when. I also tend to be the one who has to push for things to happen… like certain activities at set times given flow of day, or for inane things like trash to be put in the trash bin. A second friend tends to be the “peacemaker” for better or worse: she will actually put the third person’s trash into the garbage can even when it’s not hers because she doesn’t want to “cause trouble,” but then this ends up enabling our third friend, who is a bit of mess. This friend always wants to stay neutral and gets frustrated when opinions are shared that she perceives as too strong — which are likely the vast majority of mine. Oftentimes my opinions are met with a response along the lines of, “Well, everyone is entitled to live where they want to.” Which is obviously true, but I wasn’t really saying my opinion as if it was the only right one, more that this was what I thought…? And our third friend is living life without thinking past tomorrow. She contributed zero to this trip other than paying for her share and showing up; she even admitted to never reviewing my itineraries in detail. It’s a good thing ChatGPT and Perplexity AI did most of the “work” for me. And as noted earlier, she’s sloppy and doesn’t really take responsibility for a lot of the way she is, or her life’s circumstances. I am sure to them, I can seem stubborn, pushy, too opinionated, and too quick to challenge. To a degree to certain personalities, I can see how I am all those things. But the truth is — as I am getting older, I am embracing these qualities even more because I am just getting even more and more comfortable in my own skin, living my life the way I want to.

As I’ve gotten older, I have really enjoyed meeting people who have lived very different lives from me. I ask more questions because I want to know what’s different and what I don’t know. At this point, I really don’t feel a need to meet more people from the Bay Area or people who have had similar life experiences to me unless it’s convenient. And I actually really enjoy it when people challenge my opinions or stances on specific topics. I don’t see it as a put-down or an attack; I actually see it as fun. I think it makes me think more. But not everyone believes this.

I feel very lucky all the time that I’ve maintained friends since age 11. They are like family to me and always will be. But I also feel very, very fortunate and privileged to have made some really great adult friends, even as recently as in the last two years, who have really added more fun, challenge, and perspective to my life. They align with the way I look at the world and the meaning I am trying to get out of my time on earth. And it’s been very refreshing. All friends serve different purposes in our lives, and so that’s why it’s important to have multiple friends to fill our cups in different ways. I am so, so lucky.

Watching me as I leave – a sign of her love for me

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Kaia is in this cute phase as a 4-year-old where sometimes, she gets really sad and cries and screams when I leave. But other times, she really tries to be a “big girl” and be brave and watch me as I leave. She will wait for me at the door and watch me get into the elevator, waving to me, blowing me kisses, and say in a cheerful tone, “Bye bye, mama!” She was not a fan of my going to Raleigh this week, even though it was just for 24 hours. But I think she was less upset because I dropped her off at school that morning before heading to the airport. Whenever she is with her school friends, she is always less sad when I leave.

I’ve loved every stage of Kaia’s development for different reasons. I love that she is very communicative now. At every age she’s ever been, she’s always been very affectionate, cuddly, always wanting hugs and kisses. I feel very lucky that she’s very affectionate and loving. I think about it a lot. And when I think about it, I am happy she is still like this. It makes me feel very loved — loved in a way I never thought I needed. I truly embrace these moments of watching her blow me kisses and waving to me from the door… even if most days, it’s only because I am “leaving” to go down to the gym. These moments are full of love — her love for me, a daughter’s love for her mama. And one day sooner than I’d like, she will likely abandon this level of public affection. So I try to soak it up as much as I can and indulge her with as many cuddles and kisses as possible. She loves me so much, and I love her so much. And that makes the world feel so amazing.

An evolving world whether we want to accept it or not

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I am back in North Carolina again today, but in a different city: Raleigh. I’ll be here for just over 24 hours. While here, I had to do something really annoying in preparation for my onsite work event tomorrow: make a stop at a FedEx location that was out in the middle of nowhere in the boondocks of Durham… just to pick up some posters that our marketing team had sent to our customer’s office park campus, but because the courier could not find the correct building, had to send it back to a local FedEx. After I checked into my hotel and went to my room to get some work done, I went out to get a Lyft to take me to FedEx.

My Lyft driver was really friendly and outgoing. He’s in his late 50s and has lived all over the Northeast of the U.S. Funnily enough, he was actually born in what is now Elmhurst Hospital and grew up in Woodside. I told him I was a transplant from San Francisco and actually spent my first four years in New York in Elmhurst. He did not believe me. He also did not believe me when I told him that Woodside is an up and coming area of Queens, and that trendy bakeries, cafes, and restaurants are actually opening there.

“You are lying!” the driver said, laughing hysterically. “There is NO WAY Woodside or Sunnyside is a place to eat out! It was a complete dump when I lived there, and it has to be just as bad today! High crime, gun shots, drugs everywhere — a place to never be seen! I don’t even want my 20-year-old kid going there!”

I challenged him (because I always do this now, and I own it). “Okay, then,” I said to him. “After you finish this ride, I’m serious: go on your phone. Look up the business From Kora on Google Maps and look up the ratings and reviews. It’s one of the top rated bakery/cafes in all of New York City! People travel from all parts of the city, New Jersey, and even Connecticut to line up and eat pastries from there! GO DO IT! Places change and evolve over time. I realize that’s hard for a lot of people to stomach, but no place stays the same forever.”

Mr. Anti Sunnyside/Woodside still didn’t believe me. He still thought I was joking. Then we drove closer to the FedEx where there were signs for downtown Durham. He started telling me about how when he first moved to the Raleigh-Durham area 30 years ago, downtown Durham and Raleigh were “absolutely disgusting.” No one wanted to go there or be seen in those areas. Today, both places have growing businesses and offices flourishing. Both have great restaurant and bar scenes. People from the ‘burbs actually do come in to dine at these restaurants.

The driver hesitated for a bit and realized his double standard in his own speech. “Okay, so maybe Woodside and Sunnyside are experiencing this change that you claim Woodside and Sunnyside are,” he relented. “Fine — I’ll admit that I haven’t been back to that area in over 30 years. I just haven’t had any reason to, and I definitely had no desire based on what I grew up with!”

Nothing stays the same forever — no town, city, state, country, person, dog, anything. We can either evolve with it and go with the flow, or be doomed to stay in our own old, aging fixed mindsets.

Urban Tribe goes to Asheville

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The last time two of my best friends and I went on a trip was in 2009, so we were just 23 years old at the time — that’s 17 years ago, so a long time ago. We did a long weekend away for two of our bridal shower/bachelorette weekends. We’ve also done long weekend trips along with other friends with two out of three of us present. But this weekend is actually our very first trip again with just the three of us, which is kind of funny to think about.

“Has it really been since November 2009 when we went to Chicago for Thanksgiving?” One of them said when we were at dinner this evening.

Yes, it really has been. Time passes that quickly.

A lot has changed in the last 17 years. Two of us got married and had kids. One of us, who was partnered at the time, is no longer partnered with the same person. One of us relocated to another country and came back. Many employment statuses and jobs have changed. None of us live in the same place as we did in 2009. We’ve all grown older, traveled more, experienced more, and as a result of all that, have developed preferences about what we want and how we want it. So when we decided to share the same room on this trip, I was not completely sure how this would go. We like different things. Our personalities are also very, very different.

Here’s a case in point of something seemingly minor that was top of mind tonight: One of these friends, who is unusually sensitive to light, prefers to use blackout shades when in hotel rooms. She sleeps with eye covers and ear plugs, and she doesn’t want to be disturbed at all when sleeping; the tiniest bit of light upsets her. When she started drawing close the blackout shades, I already felt like I was being rubbed the wrong way. I asked her why she was doing this, and she explained her preference to me.

“But natural light guides your circadian rhythm and is healthier for you,” I said. “The daylight tells you that it’s time to wake up. It’s better for your health.”

This was met with a dead stare. “Yeah, well… I don’t like it,” she insisted and shrugged, as she continued to draw the blackout shade.

She also insisted that our third friend likes using the blackout shades as well. The third friend, always a fence-sitter and trying to remain as neutral as possible, quietly relented that yes, she does prefer that we use them. So, I was outnumbered and had to deal with the blackout shades.

In November 2009 when we were in Chicago for Thanksgiving, we unfortunately had to all share a king size bed and rotate who slept in the middle (room type availability with a special rate). That was a bit too cozy, and this time, there was zero way anyone would tolerate that. So for this trip, we got a double room with two queen-size beds, and I requested a roller (twin) bed be brought to the room. We’re rotating who sleeps in the roller bed, and since we’re here three nights, it’s easy to split up.

As we turned the lights out tonight, we were reflecting on how in 2009, we all slept in the same bed, and this time, we all had our own beds, but in the same room, so it was a bit of an upgrade. And we were musing over whether we’d do a 50th birthday girls’ trip.

“Well, if we do a 50th birthday trip in ten years, I think we can further upgrade that trip from this one and get separate rooms!” I said. When I am 50, I probably will not want to share a room, and I definitely will not want blackout shades.

Everyone agreed. In 2037, separate rooms it will be. Of course, it will cost more, but we all agreed we think we will deserve it.

Feeling 40 in my midsection

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Now that it’s been over a month since I turned 40, it’s almost like I have little things here and there to remind me of my age. I just scheduled (and rescheduled, due to this week’s blizzard) my first mammogram. I also realize that as I am checking my weight on the scale weekly that my weight really hasn’t come down much from when we first got back from Australia and the Philippines. Usually, this is what happens each year: the second week of December, we leave for Australia/Asia. We’re gone for about three to four weeks, during which time, I do no real exercise (my workouts are all on hold) other than casual walking (which frankly, I do not think is enough for anyone at any age). In Australia, we’re always getting to places by car, which means even fewer steps. And I’m definitely indulging more since we’re away from home, we’re trying new places in different cities, and it’s Christmas time, so ’tis the season for indulging. So with all that lack of movement and increase in indulgent foods, it’s no wonder that by the time we get back to New York the first week of January that I’ve usually gained somewhere in the ballpark of six to nine pounds. And since my baseline weight is at about 117 pounds, percentage wise, that’s actually a good amount of weight for me to gain on my 5’3″ frame. So I spend the next month to month and a half cutting back on indulging, not drinking much alcohol at all, and also increasing the rigor of my exercises.

I checked the scale last week, and I checked it again today. My weight is not budging much. I came back at 125 pounds, and today, I am 124 pounds. I’ve lost a single pound of weight. It’s fluctuated down to 120 at some point in early February, but it’s gone back up again. And I am definitely not pleased. And I know where most of it is concentrated: excess fat right in my midsection, the area they always tell you that as you get older, you need to watch more carefully.

So now I’ve become one of those people who checks her weight semi regularly and is trying to figure out how to lose weight. This is all relative to myself, and most people cannot even tell from looking at me that I’ve gained weight. But because I know and can feel the difference, I suppose it’s time to start making some age-related tweaks to address this — not fun.

I was almost 40 years old when I discovered glass nail files

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I’ve had a nail and cuticle picking habit since I was about 12 years old. I have a feeling that some of it is genetic, as both my dad and Ed are nail and cuticle pickers. I tried all kinds of things to resolve this: I tried different nail oils and creams. I cut and filed my nails down really short (which is actually more hygienic given I cook so much). Chris and my friend even yelled at me regularly when they’d catch me picking. Nothing ever helped other than getting manicures, which tended to get very expensive and is a huge time commitment. There was a period in my mid-twenties when I actually did my own nails regularly in between having different vendor partners pay for manicures. But then I got too impatient and let it go. I realized that if I liked the way my nails looked (perfect, polished, manicured), then I wouldn’t be tempted to pick at them. And then once Kaia was born, the idea of doing my own nails or going to a salon just seemed like too much — too much time, too much money, too much dedication. Plus, regular nail polish doesn’t last long when you have kid responsibilities and cook regularly. I don’t want the risk of flaking nail polish into our food!

So I was reading about DIY “natural manicures last year. I found some kits that were in the $40-60 range, and this all seemed crazy to me. But then when I read the reviews for these kits, I realized that the key part that everyone raved about was the glass nail file — this seemed to be the real game changer. I vaguely remember buying (and breaking…) a glass nail file back in my 20s. The reviews say that if you commit to using a glass nail file, you don’t even have to cut your nails anymore. You file in one direction, and your nails will be super shiny and nice without any product.

I found highly rated glass nail files on Amazon late last year. I even brought them to Australia/the Philippines. Once I used them, I couldn’t believe it had taken me this long to find them. My nails no longer had the annoying jagged edges that would snag like when I file with a (terrible!) cardboard or plastic nail file. The nail tips actually were shiny because of the glass; I couldn’t believe it. So because of this one change, I’ve actually stopped picking at my nails since December. I still pick at my cuticles, but that’s another problem to be addressed. It’s one thing at a time!

I’m still oiling my cuticles regularly to prevent the dryness (which then tempts me to pick at them), but my nails have honestly never been better. What a find that’s benefited my nail health – glass nail files!