Category Archives: Confusion

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.

Transitional weather conundrum: what am I supposed to wear?

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The weather has been pretty wonky here in New York the last couple weeks. This last week, it’s been so cold that even after doing a thorough wash of our down-like winter coats to (originally) put away until next winter, I actually had to take them out again for Kaia and me. Kaia wore hers twice this week, and I wore mine once! It’s April, and we still need to turn the heat on at home…

So today, it was actually supposed to hit low 60s F in the city. Kaia wore a light jacket to school. I wouldn’t leave the house until the afternoon to meet my friend, and I had no idea what I wanted to wear. Because I tend to run cold, I put on a sweater, plus a medium-weight coat on top of it. I walked outside for two blocks and already felt too hot, so I took off my scarf.

Everyone who is into fashion always goes gaga for “transitional” seasons like spring and autumn. These people love their autumn or spring jackets, their cute tops and skirts, and count down the days when they can put together these nice outfits. I, on the other hand, am not at all a fashionista, truly dislike both of those seasons for dressing myself. I never have any idea what to wear, how to layer things. And since I run cold, I tend to overdress, which then means I will need to shed layers, which then means I will need to either carry said layers or stuff them in a bag. And that is so annoying to me. It’s even more annoying now that I have a preschooler, who always insists I carry her crap, as well!

I met my friend for tea today. After she hugged me, she looked me up and down, then back down and up. Then she said, “Are you a bit warm in this?”

Sometimes, I wish I could just go outside wearing a big warm brown paper bag and call it a day. That would be so much simpler.

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 4-year-old topples over an entire table of hot chocolate and tea

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Dining out with young children can be anxiety-inducing — so much to the point that a number of my colleagues have explicitly told me that unless they are dining out at a chain restaurant or McDonald’s, their kids are not coming with them. We’ve been dining out with Kaia at least once a week since she was about four months old. We’ve made it a point to expose her to lots of different neighborhoods, foods, and cuisines from a very young age, hoping this would make her adaptable not only to different foods, but also many different dining environments. And so far, while she has certainly had her number of tantrums, outbursts, and meltdowns at restaurants, for the most part, she’s been pretty “good” by public dining standards. Until today, she had never had a major spill or broken any glasses or plates. Yes, that is — until today.

We were at this small, quaint Thai-fusion cafe called Blue Brown Cafe in Williamsburg late morning today. It was the first stop during this Saturday’s food crawl. They had a small, narrow seating area, so we sat down at a tiny little table and ordered a Thai tea with steamed milk and homemade cardamom ginger syrup, a raspberry hot chocolate, and a pandan cream-filled croissant. Kaia was acting a bit unruly, insisting that she sit in a certain way and potentially grab the marshmallow off the raspberry hot chocolate. Chris was trying to move her so that she didn’t get too close to knocking over the table, but she kept resisting him. I had just taken a single bite of the pandan croissant — the pandan cream was delicious, but the croissant itself was not great and reminded me of Costco croissants. Just as I placed the croissant down on the tiny table, Chris got our hot drinks and put them down. Then, Kaia proceeded to push against the seats. And just like that, her back knocked over the entire table — hot drinks, croissant, and all. All it took was about three seconds and we had the messiest, stickiest hot chocolate and Thai tea spillage all over the place. Luckily, nothing spilled on or hurt/burnt anyone; and also luckily, the drinks were in to-go paper cups, so we didn’t break any mugs. One of the employees quickly came from around the corner with multiple wet towels to wipe up the floor. I instinctively jumped up to grab a ton of napkins from the counter to help the cleanup. Kaia knew immediately she had done something very wrong; she burst into tears and kept saying she didn’t mean to, that it was an accident and she was sorry. At that same time, a number of people were in line for coffee… and likely took theirs to go given the sticky mess and the sobbing 4-year-old situation.

When the employee finally finished cleaning our mess, I looked at Chris and said in a monotone voice, “So, do we want to do a re-order?” And the employee gave me a sympathetic look and said they’d remake our drinks then. It was a very kind, generous gesture given that they’d obviously already made the drinks that got spilled, plus we inadvertently made them do extra work with the spillage. So this time, we got the same two drinks, and the employee put tight lids on both of the drinks — probably just in case. This time, Kaia was super obedient, sat very still while we had our hot beverages.

These are the situations that you never want to have when going out with a young child. We were *that* family today with the unruly child who made a total mess at a cafe, and likely scared away other patrons from sitting down and enjoying their morning coffees and teas. Accidents happen, and honestly, I was always curious when something would get broken or spilled in a major way when we dined out with her; that finally happened today, at age 4 years, 3 months. But if nothing else, I hope that Kaia remembers this and knows that when she’s told to sit in a certain place and not kick or move too much that she realizes what could happen if she’s disobedient and doesn’t listen. We definitely do not want a repeat of today happening 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.

Cultural food traditions – honoring family, roots, and ancestors

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“Are you sure you want to make everything?” Chris asked me the other day regarding our upcoming Lunar New Year party this Sunday. “You don’t want to buy any food at all?”

I hesitated for a second because I realized that we had about 18 people total expected to come. To date, this would be the biggest group of people we’ve not only had in our home, but would also be providing food for. “No, I don’t want to buy any prepared food,” I insisted. “I like making all these dishes!”

He relented and said that as long as I enjoyed it, then we could proceed as is, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to lighten the load and buy some prepared foods. I told him I’d consider it in the future — maybe.

As progressive of a person as I like to think I am, there are some traditions I do like to hold up, especially in the realm of food. There’s a real art in making a lot of these traditional New Year’s dishes, and the skills are dying because most people of my generation and younger just don’t value it very highly. Who is going to spend time sourcing all the eight to 20 vegetables to make a cohesive and homemade Buddha’s delight (luo han zhai, or just zhai)? Who wants to spend time making tang yuan dough by hand and from scratch; plus the black sesame paste filling, grinding, rolling, then freezing individual black sesame balls, to then wrap them in dough, and freeze once again… to then boil in hot water and then finally eat? We all have work, day to day responsibilities, and most people just want to throw in the towel and simply eat the food. That’s why so many families just go out to restaurants to celebrate Lunar New Year, or they’ll get ready-made foods and bring them home. But I’m not one of those people. I actually take pride and joy in making these dishes from scratch. It’s like honoring my grandparents and my cultures — that’s the way I see it. Not everyone eating these dishes at my party will understand the cultural significance. But every time I make them, I remember why they’re important and why they’re worth the time and energy to make. This time of year, I do spend time reflecting on where I came from and my roots, and while I make these foods, I meditate on it, clear my mind, and reflect on the past, present, and future.

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!

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!

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….?!