I’ve been using the word squidgy a lot lately. I didn’t think it was a real word, but apparently the Cambridge English dictionary disagrees and says it is, indeed, a real word. It means “soft and wet and changing shape easily when pressed” and it seems to be most often used in relation to bread that has been not quite fully baked and has a squidgy center. What’s interesting about that is that it is a near perfect description of how my stomach seems this week. For three days now, my innards are feeling squidgy, which I describe as rumbling around with mild distress. We ate dinner on Friday with some friends at Sushiyama and while I never get sushi or sashimi, I am agreeable to going there because everyone so loves their sushi (Kim actually usually gets eel, which is particularly gross to me) and I can always manage to get something that works for me. I’ve learned over the years that I am not alone when it comes to Japanese cuisine and I suspect that many people are like me and prefer to stay away from raw fish. The standard go-to’s are gyoza dumplings, yakisoba noodles, yakitori chicken, tempura or ramen soup. I’m going to take a wild guess that fully one third of what gets ordered at Sushiyama is one of those alternatives to the raw fish menu. Whatever it was that I had at Sushiyama, I suspect from what I know about the pace of my digestive tract, it was that dinner which has made me feel squidgy.
I understand that people really don’t need to read about what is happening in my gut on a moment to moment basis, but I do think there are two themes which come out of this which I feel are worth exploring. The first is what happens to a body that has spent 70+ years not caring too much about what gets put into it and how that changes as the world adopts these GLP-1’s and folks like me put themselves into new hands for perhaps the first time in their lives. The second has to do with the importance of being adaptable in life and less focused on just pursuing whatever it is that we think is “my thing” without regard to the others in our lives.
When you find yourself at age 72 with a belly that has a decided shape of a deflated balloon, there are several things you can do. I have been trying to do the most positive of those things by exercising more, specifically concentrating on core exercises that will work to tighten up that midsection. Obviously, some people choose to revert to surgical correction, but I am the last person to think that would be a good idea. It seems awfully painful and far too vain to appeal to me. It also seems more unnatural than can possibly be good for you. I have an enduring faith in the body’s ability to heal itself in all ways, including its ability to take up whatever slack is needed with sufficient patience to allow nature to follow its favored path. I’m sure that at 72, that’s a slower and longer path, but that’s OK since everything is supposed to slow down with age.
We are all probably seeing on Instagram or other feeds this surge in offerings for Tai-Chi tutorials and programs. Who doesn’t want to learn Tai-Chi, right? It looks cool, calm and very low-impact. Now add to that the latest variation, which seems to be Chair Tai-Chi, which you can do while sitting. That sounds a lot like the perfect exercise without any further inducement. But this is like buying Ginsu knives off an infomercial… “but wait, there’s more…” … now they are showing us before and after photos of some 65-year old dude who did Chair Tai-Chi for 3 months and went from a flabby deflated balloon belly to a hardbody six-pack kinda guy with ripped arms and shoulders. I gotta get me some of that.
Meanwhile, what I’ve got going on down my front is a rumbling stomach that is warning me to stay clear of Sushiyama for a while, making me want to do anything except crunches and planks for fear of some untoward explosion, and making me think squidgy thoughts as I knead my midsection while prone and think of soft, wet-centered bread that’s about as undigestible as anything I can imagine. This is where my wonder drug, chewable Pepto-Bismol tablets that look like pink Mentos comes into play. I love that stuff and know exactly why it is still a bestseller after more than a century of use. Pepto-Bismol was developed in 1901 as a treatment for cholera infantum (a deadly digestive illness in infants at the time). It was originally called “Bismosal: Mixture Cholera Infantum” before being renamed Pepto-Bismol. The product was acquired by Procter & Gamble in 1982, which helped turn it into the widely recognized brand it is today. The active ingredient, bismuth subsalicylate, is what gives it both its effectiveness and its distinctive pink color. Bismuth subsalicylate works through several mechanisms to relieve digestive symptoms. It slows down the movement of fluid into the intestines. It also helps firm everything by absorbing excess water in the gut. In addition to that anti-diarrheal effect, it also has an antacid effect as the salicylate component helps reduce inflammation in the stomach lining, which eases nausea and indigestion. Bismuth ions are mildly toxic to certain bacteria and viruses. This is why it can help with traveler’s diarrhea and is even used (in combination with antibiotics) to help eradicate H. pylori, the bacteria responsible for many stomach ulcers. And then it also makes you feel better through its coating effect, forming a protective layer over the stomach and intestinal lining, which can soothe irritation and reduce cramping. For full disclosure, it also temporarily turns your stool black. This is harmless and just a reaction of bismuth with sulfur in your digestive tract, but it has the added benefit of helping you time your digestive track both in terms of how long the process takes and how long the effect lasts. Very informative if you’re not feeling great.
So far, this little bout of stomach bug has caused me to shed three pounds, so there’s that. Sometimes the body needs a kick in the ass (good analogy, Rich) to keep the weight loss program moving downward…so I guess, thank you Sushiyama. I am also reminded that this unintended consequence is a direct result of me NOT saying that sushi ain’t “my thing” and boycotting a dining experience that others in my coterie enjoy as much as they enjoy sushi. There are many lessons in all this squidginess and my sense is that I have another day of this unbaked bread innards to go yet. Now I have to get some renewed motivation to crunch and plank so that the even more deflated balloon has somewhere to go other than just tucked into my waistband.