Her BrainStorm

In your 20s, you feel immortal. In your 30s, you feel invincible. Then 40s creep up on you in a blink of an eye. Then you start feeling a bit more vulnerable than you did in the past two decades; compelling you to do a harsh reassessment of the life you’ve lived. At least, it has for me. You see, I was carded for cold medicine until the age of 39. Then at 40, I went to buy a bottle of wine for some dinner guests; and the cashier didn’t card me. I walked out of that store dazed & confused. Like, HOW DID I AGE 10-YEARS in one year?!? What da… oh, I know! Perhaps I acted too confident. Silly me.

Game Plan: Next time, try to act a little less confident and A LOT MORE nervous, and they will card me. I am sure of this. Round 2: Uncles and cousins are coming over for dinner, and request beer with dinner. Game face and plan are in order. I walk up to the register with requested beer. Clerk asks me how I am. I avoid eye contact at all costs, fidget nervously, kick up my voice about 18-octaves and answer, “fine.” I sound like I swallowed a handful of mosquitos. Clerk doesn’t bother to card me. Instead he salutes me with a “thank you ‘ma’am’.” BOI, ain’t nobody a “ma’am.” Yo mama a “ma’am” (you seriously made me think in double negatives). I. Am. Gangsta.

I told mom what happened… she thought it was because I had gained some weight post surgery. After all, I was sedentary for almost 3-months in the hospital post surgery. Prior to my brain surgery, I was a perfect size-4. Yes, that 30s — the invincible decade. I was conscious of everything I ingested. Even before the KETO diet that swept across the nation, I had personally stuck to a low carb diet. I ate a very low calorie diet and hardly any carbs. Never really had any sugar cravings. And if I occasionally did have carbs, they were whole grain carbs in very, very small portions – and never any whites. Yes, I’m Asian. Mercy me.

I was conscious of my health as well. My daily morning routine was to head straight to the gym. 3-miles to warm up, then jog/sprint for the remaining 7 miles — clocking in an average of 40-50 miles on most given weeks. Mondays were devoted to hour-long Zumba sessions followed by an hour of yoga. Tuesdays were hour long step aerobics followed by an hour of weights/resistance training. Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays were a mix of HIIT or BARR classes, Pilates, weights, and more running with 90s music blaring through my Skull Candy (yes, Vanilla Ice, Black Eyed Peas, and Flo Rida. Don’t judge me). You see, exercise was my natural “high.” My body was tight. Size-4 skinny jeans fit me like a glove. According to research, exercise keeps our telomeres’ lengths long, which gives us that youthful look. So, in pursuit of the “forever young” façade, I visited the gym daily. I also face-masked twice a day, jade “rolled,” and yep, drank about a gallon of water. I was health conscious and thought I was doing everything right — according to the books anyway. Then one day, I started feeling fatigued. Fatigue overtook me. Hmmm… that’s strange. I’m usually able to partake in 90-minute high-intensity aerobic classes back-to-back without feeling tired. Respectful reminder to self: I’m “invincible,” right?!? So, keep pressing on! However, fatigue continues to drain the life out of me. I can’t stay awake more than 4-hours a day. I’m only 35. Where is my stamina? I tried to sleep it off but it doesn’t work. I tried to increase my time at the gym — it doesn’t work. Ughhhh… nothing works! What’s wrong with my health? What’s going on with me?!?! I’m throwing up for no reason. Can’t keep anything down.

Fatigue and sickness continue. Time passes and now — the season is starting to change. Thank You God that You are so, so creative and have given us four seasons that are so distinct in its own way. The changing of seasons always reminded me of a Creator God. It’s an honor to worship You, Lord. ❤ The leaves are starting to turn in its luscious green coats to a darker, velvety hue. The tops of the trees look as if God took a giant celestial paint brush and ever-so-gently touched the tops of its leaves, turning them into these velvety rich hues of burgundies, reds, oranges, and magentas. Psalm 19:1 tells us that “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” And yes Lord, I stand in awe and in amazement of your power and creativity.

It’s a clear, crisp, fall day and I go for a drive. The window is cracked to let in the air. The slight chilly autumn air blows through my hair. Life feels good. I’m reminded of how well my little girl is doing in school. I will be traveling to Vegas to attend my first shoe “show.” Thank You God that the business I started from scratch has already reported and filed a 1099 with the IRS for over half a million dollars – in the first year. Thank You for blessing me with a business that allows me financial freedom and the creative outlet I so wanted. I’m basking in God’s goodness and grace… then (gasp!) I start seeing a massive fireworks show go off before my very own eyes. The weather is sunny and clear, so why are there fireworks in the middle of November? And why are they just white? Shouldn’t there be at least some combination of red, white, and blue colors to commemorate the U.S. flag? Note to self: make an appointment to go see an eye doctor for this strange, middle-of-the-nowhere fireworks show.