Category Archives: Conflict

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.

Finding good things everywhere I go

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I get told I am full of shit for this belief a lot: I truly believe that no matter where you go in the world, whether it’s a different neighborhood, town, city, or country, that there is always good food somewhere there. I think of it like I think of people and beauty: there is beauty when you give a place a chance. There are also good, well-meaning people if you give them a chance and take a little time to get to know them. I know every single place I’ve been to has something good or great that I’ve enjoyed.

So, even for places that I have been to that I have very little strong opinion about, I can still feel myself getting protective over them when people I know make sweeping, negative generalizations about them. I was telling my friends this last weekend that I was going to be in Raleigh this week for work. A friend (who has never been to Raleigh) shared that her husband has had to go to Raleigh a few times for work, and she said he was not a fan; he said there was no good food in Raleigh. As someone who has been to Raleigh once and had three very solid meals there last year, I could feel myself getting annoyed.

“Where did he go, and who chose the places?” I asked.

She said some colleagues chose the restaurants and that he didn’t. To be honest, I don’t think I would have had much more faith if he had chosen them.

I told her that I found a really great bakery cafe there that I loved and was planning to go back this week. And today, I made good on my word: I stopped in for an iced latte, a kouign amann, and two caneles to go. Every bite of that kouign amann was perfection: each bite shattered, had this addictive crunchy sugar coating on the outside, and definitely had seemingly millions of flaky, buttery layers. I got one canele for me and one to bring home for Chris. I ate my canele in flight, over 7 hours after I purchased it. It still had a super crunchy outside and a gooey, soft, tender inside, with a strong vanilla bean flavor. Last August, I had a delicious tapas meal with a work friend. That same trip, my colleagues and I hosted a great happy hour event for a prospective customer that had amazing appetizers. And last night, I had a very noteworthy, crunchy banh xeo generously stuffed with lots of shrimp and pork, along with a pork bao and a calamansi spritz. If you do your due diligence and spend the five minutes or less it takes to look up Google Reviews or some AI tool like Claude or ChatGPT, I highly doubt you would fail to find a good restaurant or six in Raleigh.

Sometimes, I wonder why I feel so frustrated when people make negative over-generalizations about places, especially smaller U.S. cities. It’s clear that I do not live in a small U.S. city — quite the opposite! And I think I do know why: it’s almost indicative of how quickly and based on very few interactions people can draw sweeping judgments and harbor negative stereotypes about other people or groups of people. If you want to get to know anyone or any place, you have to come in with an open mind and an open heart. If you already are coming in from a big city and choose to think that everything in said smaller city must be crap, that will inevitably color whatever experiences you have there — and ultimately taint it. And well, that’s your loss, not that place’s, because it means you are not able to enjoy your time spent there. And since none of us is living forever, we should try to do what we can to at least attempt to enjoy every moment we’re so lucky and privileged to live.

When your kid ends up in urgent care while you’re on a flight home

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I came home today, ready to give my sweet Kaia Pookie a big hug when I got through the door. But coming home this afternoon wasn’t quite what I envisioned. It was weirdly quiet when I entered the apartment. Chris turned over to look at me, barely greeting me. Instead, the first words out of his mouth were, “She had an accident.”

I looked over his shoulder at my Kaia Pookie, sitting quietly on the living room rug amidst a bunch of her toys. Her arms were sprawled out as though she was just leaning back on the couch, but the entire center of her face was bloody and mucusy. I slowly walked up to talk to her. While she looked straight up at me, she didn’t respond or smile; she basically had no reaction. She was lethargic and seemingly in pain and/or shock. I took her in my arms to hold her, while also occasionally pressing an ice compress to her nose and wiping away more blood and snot. She was eager to come into my embrace and clearly needed the cuddles.

Chris explained that while they were at the Transit Museum earlier today, Kaia was running around on an old bus when suddenly, she tripped on something and fell down very hard, face first. He actually didn’t see this happen, but some bystanders in the museum told him that his child had fallen. As soon as he got to her and lifted her face up, all he could see was blood everywhere. He immediately took her to the bathroom to get cleaned up, but the blood just kept coming out. A museum worker waited outside to see if she was okay, and kindly offered an ice pack. Chris wasn’t sure if she was okay or if something more serious could be wrong, so he took her to the closest Urgent Care, where they checked her out, did a few tests to ensure she didn’t have any major head injury, and then said that we just needed to monitor her to ensure she was “still herself” and that she didn’t lose consciousness.

We spent the rest of the early evening intermittently icing her nose and wiping away her runny nose snot and blood. I knew she was quite herself, though, because I kept talking to her in Chinese, and she responded logically and with expected answers. When I asked her if she wanted a surprise gift I brought back for her, she immediately nodded. Then minutes later, she kept asking for her surprise gift. I took it out for her: a deluxe princess coloring book. She looked at it and was clearly in love. I asked her if she wanted to color with it now, and she nodded and ran to get her markers. Chris teased her and said it was actually his gift; I had already presented him with dark chocolate covered sour cherries from a popular local Asheville chocolate shop when she was sitting down. My Kaia Pookie was clearly lucid and understanding every single thing that was happening. Her face turned down, and she yelled, “No, that’s mine! You already got a present!”

Phew. So fingers crossed, it doesn’t look like she suffered any major head injury. But what crappy luck that this happened when I wasn’t home. I asked Chris if he missed me while I was gone. He responded in his usual in-character Chris way: “Well, you would have been really useful here today.”

And that is what a “romantic” response sounds like when you’ve been together for 14-plus years, and married (at least, celebration-wise) for ten years — just in case you weren’t already familiar with it.

The stupidity of American healthcare strikes once again

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When I made my mammogram appointment over a month ago, the provider I was referred to by my OB-GYN had an online portal that had you fill out the usual paperwork in advance online, so I was able to do things like upload my driver’s license, front and back of my insurance card, and fill out any personal and family history ahead of time. What it also did was give me an estimate of what my out of pocket cost would be at the time of appointment check-in. This was a rude awakening: it said based on my health insurance that my out of pocket cost should be around $350 for a mammogram and breast ultrasound.

None of this sounded right. Mammograms are standard and covered by pretty much every health insurance for women over 40. Breast ultrasounds are covered in New York state (and apparently… not in Kansas, where a friend of mine lives, and where she had to pay $300 PER breast out of pocket). I called my health insurance, who confirmed to me what I suspected: I should have zero out of pocket costs, no co-pays, for either procedure. They gave me a reference number to give to the provider. I then called the provider, gave them the reference number, but they said they could not tell me the cost until I came into the office, which seemed not only completely inefficient, but just plain stupid. “If you ask me to pay for this out of pocket when I come in, I will decline the procedure and walk out,” I said sternly to them over the phone. “I am asking if you can correct this ahead of time so we don’t waste your time or mine?”

The person on the phone seemed totally unfazed, like she didn’t care (and frankly, probably wasn’t paid enough to care). She told me there was no way to confirm until the day of the appointment when I came in (which seems false the way health insurance works, but whatever). So she told me to just come in, and she doubted I’d have to pay anything out of pocket.

Well, I came in this afternoon, and lo and behold, that same $350 amount showed up as what I owed at the time of service. I insisted to the receptionist I wasn’t paying it. I gave them the reference number once again, and she made a flippant response: “Breast ultrasounds are not typically covered, but okay, we’ll call your insurance.” Her associate called my insurance. Twenty minutes later, they confirmed that I was correct, that I did not owe them any payment… but, I would be required to pay $20 copay for the breast ultrasound.

“Copay – is just for the breast ultrasound?” I said to her, still skeptical. I made a mental note, planning to call my insurance to contest even this amount after I paid it because this still goes against what my health insurance stated to me on the phone, which I wrote down with the reference number.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” the front desk person said, clearly annoyed with me. I’m not sure what her problem was — it wasn’t like she was getting the money. Their office was the one who screwed up, not me.

I paid the copay, then had both the mammogram and breast ultrasound done. I walked out of the office much later than I estimated I would, so the whole experience was pretty frustrating, especially since I tried to prevent foreseeable problems way in advance, which this office obviously thwarted. But this is just one of many stupid, frustrating and senseless examples in my personal experiences of why our healthcare system in the U.S. is so fucked — an example of what not to be. I also made a note to ask my OB-GYN for another radiology provider because I definitely do not want to go back here at all ever, ever again.

Tardiness in friends

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At a previous company, I once worked with a sales leader I really respected. Although I am not in sales, I oftentimes listened to his team talks and abided by his advice. Countless times, I can remember what he said repeatedly about showing up to customer meetings: “If you are not 15 minutes early, then you are 15 minutes late.” To him, if you showed up for a 9am meeting at 8:59 or 9am, you were already late and losing the damn deal.

There’s some truth in this advice, and not just in business, but also with lower stakes situations, such as when you are meeting up with friends or other loved ones. You want to make a good impression, stay on good footing with those you care about, and ultimately, show some respect. When you set a meeting time, you are dedicating this time to this person, and thus you are respecting that they chose to set aside this time out of their busy day just for you.

I used to be the jerk who would be late fairly regularly to non-work-related events. In my early 20s, when I’d say I would meet with a friend at 6:30pm, in my head, I’d give myself a 15-minute window of “grace.” This was never spoken. I never told any friend this. But I figured I could get there by 6:45 and it would totally be fine. Sometimes, I’d arrive early or on time. But oftentimes, I was 10-15 minutes late. And finally one day, Chris called me out on it and said it was rude, said we agreed on a meeting time, and that I needed to respect that. Sheepishly, I admitted he was right. With that, plus the influence of work, since then, I make it a point to show up to meetups about 10-15 minutes early now, assuming I am not crunched for time by things out of my control (like work meetings that might run over). And that gave me the liberty (and permission) to start calling out other friends who would show up late to agreed meetups. It’s had a “trickle-across” effect: a couple friends who would usually be late are now almost always either early or on time. Now, the majority of my friends are always on time.

Well, that’s with the exception of one friend, who is notoriously late all the time. She has shown up to 1:1 meetups with me late by 10-30 minutes. Last year, she came to lunch with us late by almost an hour; Chris was infuriated. She came to my 40th birthday party late by 1.5 hours. And then this past Sunday, she came over an hour late to my Lunar New Year party.

“Being late is just a sign of disrespect,” Chris insisted as he grumbled about her. “Would she show up late to a work event or a workout class? I doubt it. So it’s not like she’s not capable; she just doesn’t respect her friends enough to be on time.”

I texted her about 10 minutes before she showed up on Sunday, asking if she was almost here (this is 50 minutes after the stated start time of my party on the Paperless Post invitation). Everyone else was already here; we were all waiting for her to arrive. When she came through the door with her husband, she saw my text as Chris took their coats, and she had said almost defensively to my text, “Well, we’re coming from far away.” Well, “far away” is all relative: we had friends come from Staten Island, New Jersey, and similar parts of Brooklyn, and they were all early or relatively on time, unless they had told us in advance they had to be late for some reason or another. With her, we had zero communication. And she clearly didn’t do the due diligence of looking at the start time, then backing out based on Google Maps how long it would take them to get to our place via public transit the way a logical person would.

Another friend was complaining to me about people who are perpetually late. “What, do they think an event start time is just a suggestion?” she asked me.

Although I’ve already called this friend out on being repeatedly late a number of times, I have a feeling that I’m going to have to confront her about it more seriously at some point soon because when I think of the sheer number of times she’s been late, it’s exactly what Chris says: it’s just a huge disrespect. Everyone is “busy,” but no one is too busy to constantly be late all the time and disrespect people they supposedly care about.

A Lunar New Year / anniversary dinner that felt wrong

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I was on Instagram this morning, and I noticed that a (White) colleague of mine, along with her (White) husband had celebrated their 7th wedding anniversary. They decided that since their wedding anniversary coincided with the Lunar New Year period that they’d host a small dinner party at a Chinese restaurant nearby and call it a joint Lunar New Year/7th wedding anniversary celebration. This felt a bit weird to me since neither of them is from any culture that celebrates Lunar New Year, nor did it look like they had any Asian guests, but hey, to each their own. If they want to celebrate other cultures, all power to them! I’m all for inclusivity.

But then, I saw the menu for the party, and I immediately cringed… hard. They had stereotypical ha gow (shrimp dumplings) and vegetable potstickers as starters. It wasn’t terrible, but entirely predictable. Plus, dumplings are a traditional Lunar New Year food. But then when I saw the mains, I immediately felt annoyed: beef and broccoli, orange chicken, and vegetable fried rice. It couldn’t have gotten more White-washed/Americanized than this. I felt like an entire caricature had been made of my culture, that they didn’t know the first thing about what significant cultural foods are eaten during the Lunar New Year period by any Lunar New Year celebrating culture or why — and maybe they didn’t even care. They clearly didn’t do any research or put any true thought behind this. Instead, they chose stereotypical “Chinese” dishes to satisfy a White audience that would match whatever notion they had in their head of what Chinese people might eat for Chinese New Year. It was pretty upsetting to see this.

This colleague and I get along. We both travel a lot, and we both love food. She loves to bake her own sourdough and occasionally likes to cook. But I always knew we probably couldn’t be real friends… because I had a feeling this is probably how she saw my culture. And I guess the feeling was right. And if I were to ever bring this up to her, how her joint Lunar New Year/wedding anniversary meal was an insult to Chinese culture and Lunar New Year traditions, I doubt the conversation would end well. Because for many people, they want to believe what they want to believe about cultures they are superficially aware about. They want to believe that pho and banh mi are what make up Vietnamese food, and that’s it. They want to believe that General Tso’s chicken, in its sugar-laden, sticky, gooey form, is what Chinese people across the diaspora eat on the daily. And when they are told otherwise, they “other” it, ignore it, and compartmentalize it far, far away from them… and they stick with what they “know,” which are the White-washed versions of whatever that culture’s food is. They don’t want to believe that what they are doing or saying could potentially be offensive or wrong. They’re like the “nice, White parents” from the parenting podcast I previously listened to: well meaning, well intentioned, but with awful execution that they are a hundred percent blind and tone-deaf to.

What you think is common is not so common

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I feel like I’ve spent most of my life hearing people from outside the U.S., media, professors, teachers, older adults, and even my own husband talk about how stupid Americans are. Our literacy rates are pretty poor. Our math and language standards are significantly lower than in most rich industrialized nations. We have a lot to be embarrassed about from an education standpoint. But sometimes, people really, really shock me in ways I would not have otherwise guessed.

I was working on a shared Google Sheet with a colleague over the last few days. Both of us were editing it, and I had to hide a bunch of columns because I wanted to isolate certain columns of information I needed to work on another project. He got confused when he was in the sheet today and asked me why he couldn’t find certain columns of information. “Did you hide the cells or delete them?” He messaged me. “Can you please unhide them?”

I was baffled. I read the message twice before it suddenly hit me that he probably didn’t even know how to unhide the cells. How can you possibly be a white-collar professional in your seemingly late 40s and not know how to do the most basic functions in Excel or Google Sheets? And even if you didn’t know, go look it up — that’s what Google Search and all these AI applications are for!

Getting a response to your airline complaint

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I was telling a colleague on the way to the airport Friday that as soon as I got on my DFW-LGA flight and got WiFi, the first thing I would do was write a complaint about my flight cancellation/lack of comped hotel to American Airlines. She chuckled a bit, remembering how seething I was when I first told her the story. And she said while rolling her eyes, “Well, good luck with that! Who knows if they will even respond to you!”

“I have Executive Platinum status!” I said to her, indignantly. “I KNOW they will reply to me. I’m more just wondering how quickly they will, and what they will offer.”

I wrote that complaint in their portal on Friday afternoon. By Saturday afternoon, I already received a response with an apology, a request for my Charlotte hotel receipt, my mailing address for them to send a reimbursement check, plus 2,500 miles automatically added to my account for the pain and inconvenience I experienced. To be honest, I was expecting a response within two weeks; the fact that they responded in about 24 hours was actually quite impressive. Now, I just want to know when I can expect that check.

It’s very true that we live in an unjust and classist world. And they likely wouldn’t have been as quick or generous if I didn’t have Executive Platinum status. But in these moments when I get screwed, I have to play some card and get something out of them. Was a comped hotel really even worth wasting an entire two days of my life, though…?

Changing attitudes and demeanor with age at work

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It’s funny to think that this June will mark 18 years of full time work for me. That isn’t that long in the grand scheme of life. I’m 40, after all, and supposedly at the “prime” of my working years. But to say that I have 18 years of work experience sounds like a lot. I haven’t really “climbed” the career ladder, so to speak, in any externally admirable or impressive way. But when I reflect back on my working years, I realize that I’ve learned a lot about corporate America, work politics, and how luck plays a huge role in how “well” you do in our “dog eat dog” world. I am definitely not the same green, naive person I was when I was 22 and entered some tech startup in a questionable building near Union Square. As time has gone on, I’ve definitely become a lot more assertive, direct, sarcastic, and even snarky. I also just want to do what I want to do, and I care less about impressing others. That’s likely cost me promotions and/or raises, but I still have what I need, so it’s not like I’m going bankrupt because of my attitude.

In my first several years of attending my different companies’ annual sales and success kickoffs (SSKO), I used to make this huge effort to meet as many people as I could, to schmooze with leaders and people “above me” in the corporate ladder to make sure they knew who I was and we had some level of camaraderie. That’s the advice you’re always given — you have to politic in the world of politics. But in the last couple years, I feel so much less inclined to do this. I am in a fully remote role. I don’t get to see my direct teammates (who I mostly like) at all. So when I’m at this once-a-year-event when I can see almost everyone on my team in the same place, I kind of just want to see and chat with them. I can be myself around them. I can be as sarcastic, snarky, and jokey as I want, and they appreciate it and get it (at least the ones I like).

But of course, I still meet new people. I meet people I’ve worked with over Zoom in person finally. I have random chats with people I bump into, and all of that is fun for me. I an extraverted introvert, after all. But having worked remotely for six years now, these events are definitely draining because you’re essentially on — all day long, and far beyond work hours due to evening social events. I feel mentally tired coming back home from SSKO and feel this deep need to decompress and stretch both my mind and body out.

When I’ve flown home from these events in the last few years, I’ve thought a lot about the workplace in general. And I’ve always wondered but never quite pinpointed: how much of “work” is your actual day to day responsibilities and customer requests versus just internal politicking — creating a brand for yourself, making your name and accomplishments known, elevating yourself against your peers and advocating for yourself in terms of recognition, raises, promotions, President’s Club? I don’t know what the percentage is obviously. But what I do know for sure is that if there is just one thing I cannot stand about work, it’s the constant internal politics, which exist anywhere and everywhere as long as there are people. It’s my least favorite thing about the corporate world. Your work will never be enough, and it will never speak for itself even if you are the best.

I also wonder to myself what the feeling will be like one day when I no longer work for a company, for “the White man.” I wonder how much of a weight off my chest that will be, and how it will contribute to my quality of life. Or, will I become one of those people who misses what I hate (that’s also called masochism) and tries to go back into it….?!

First world problems: Bad food at CLT airport, the wait list that keeps you waiting at the CLT American Express Centurion Lounge

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Trying to eat “healthy” while on the road, especially for work, can be really challenging. You often hear of people who travel frequently on business say that it’s hard to eat a well-balanced diet when you are constantly on the go. Even when you think you may be choosing the “healthy” option, hidden *extra* things like fats, sugars, and weird thickeners and preservatives lace your food with all the nasty things you’d ideally like to avoid.

When I got to CLT yesterday, I wanted to get some kind of fruit in, but I wasn’t sure how to do this. I scanned all the food options in the “plaza” area of CLT around the E gates, and I found an acai bowl stand. That sounded promising, I initially thought. I went up to the stand, decided on a protein acai smoothie, added some mango, and ordered. But when I took the first sip, I almost gagged.

“Is there added sugar in this?” I asked the employee who made it for me. It tasted like there were several tablespoons of sugar added to this. Acai is not naturally sweet at all; mango and berries would also not have made this that sweet. So where the heck was the intense sugar hit coming from?

She shrugged her shoulders. “I just followed the proportions,” she said to me nonchalantly.

I hate wasted food. It’s ingrained in my DNA; it’s almost like I feel pain in my body when I have to throw food out. As a young child, I got lectured and yelled at more times than I can count by both my paternal grandma and my mom that they grew up with barely enough food, so Ed and I were lucky to have more than enough to eat every single day. So even if food didn’t taste good, we were still expected to eat and finish it. So, I ended up drinking the rest of that likely-refined-sugar-laden acai smoothie. I rationalized it in my head as, well… I barely ate anything else today, so who really cares if this is what my body has to feed off of today?!

Chris kept reminding me to go to the American Express Centurion Lounge at CLT because last year, he signed me up for an American Express Platinum card (for a big bonus that he insisted was worth it), and one of the perks was that I could get airport lounge access (when I wasn’t with him, since I get access when traveling with him due to his Qantas status). I checked the status of the lounge online, obtained the QR code, and went to the front desk. And then, I very politely got turned away because the front desk guy told me they could let me in only up to three hours ahead of my flight; I was there 3.5 hours ahead of my departure time.

I know this sounds spoiled, but wow. I felt like such a pleb in that moment. I just got turned away from an airport lounge when I was supposed to have this shiny card that would get me access. AHHHHHH.

So after twenty minutes (and eating a subpar sandwich for dinner), I went back into the AmEx app to see if I could generate a new QR code. Well, I had no such luck: I had to get on the wait list. I put my name in, and I got a confirmation I was on the wait list. And well… 1.5 hours later, I never got off the wait list. By that time, I had to walk 12 minutes to a different concourse to get to my gate to board. The entire experience was miserable, unsavory, and definitely did NOT scream “premium experience” whatsoever. Or maybe I’m just annoyed and cranky because this entire travel experience thus far has been awful, and I’m getting older and just feel like I am losing patience for situations like this.

Too many people have this American Express platinum card. Unfortunately, as classist as it sounds, you just cannot create premium experiences for everyone. Because if everyone has access to the premium experience, then it is no longer a true premium experience. Chris poked fun at me, saying that I am just spoiled now by always having access to fancy lounges through him. That’s probably true. When you have nice things… you kind of get used to them.

Maybe I am truly a capitalist after all.