The Wellness Bitch

Do you know how many people find The Wellness Bitch doing a search for “shit?”

A lot.

Let me give you a random sampling of search string terms people use to find us:

Mucousy poop

Shitting like crazy

Foul-smelling shit

Dairy and gluten make me crap all the time

Runny shit after eating McDonald’s

Shit your brains out

Shit in mouth (Now, I really don’t know why you are searching this or how The Wellness Bitch applies, but WELCOME!)

Isn’t Google awesome? You can find anything and anyone on the Internet. Community is everything nowadays.

Just think. For years, we were all shitting our brains out, yet none of us could figure out why or communicate with each other. Doctors didn’t know what to do with us beyond prescribing innards twisting meds or sending us to a shrink. You thought you were alone and crazy. Or a freak of nature. You avoided cheese and crowded trains and eating cheese on crowded trains.

But, now you have a resource and a friend in The Wellness Bitch.

Don’t be embarrassed or afraid. I don’t know your name or where you live.

All I know is that pooping is often a painful process for you. But help is on the way. Continue sifting through this blog. Something will likely resonate and put you on a path to a less painful, less stinky tomorrow.

Unless you want to know more about “shit in mouth.” That I can’t help you with.

There’s a lot of discussion and griping about how wellness is only for the wealthy.

That the poor are so desperate to feed their families, that they have no other choice than to buy cheap imitation grape drink and Dollar Store brand cheese doodles. That the poor don’t have the benefit of spending time in Barnes and Noble browsing through Michael Pollan books. That the poor are so tired from working two jobs that they can’t summon up the strength to do more than throw some canned franks and beans into a pot to warm.

I’d like to know how those people– those compassionate champions of the working poor — how do they explain it when middle class Americans…or even upper class americans with nannies and luxury cars …make those same choices? Because they do. I see it all the time.

I walk into a $1 million home to pick up my kid from a playdate and find him eating rainbow goldfish crackers.

I see nannies pushing overweight kids in stroller. And moms in designer shoes handing their two-year-olds mocha frappaccinos to sip on.

I’m not a cold-hearted bitch. But I don’t think eating or living well really takes much money, brains, or higher education. Clearly, if that’s all it took, we wouldn’t be seeing commercials for Abilify, alongside ones for Macy’s One Day Sale.

Hey. Come a little closer. I’m going to let you in on a little secret.

I’m not rich. I put on a good show with my nice house and leased mini-van. My kids in their hand-me-down Old Navy clothes. My mock designer hand bag from Target.

But we’re struggling. We have debt. We count our pennies.

I don’t have the money for a gym membership or a trainer or even to go to weekly yoga classes. I take books out of the library or buy them second hand on Ebay.

But don’t cry for me. And don’t think I’m complaining that my life is so hard.

But, I think that bad lifestyle choices aren’t reserved for the poor.

And it’s about time we stop having that conversation and move on. Frankly, it bores me.

Your sympathy and your outrage would be better spent WAKING UP our government. And our schools. And your neighbors.

I offically apologize for the vast wasteland that has been The Wellness Bitch blog over the past few weeks. And, trust me, I kept making myself wrong about it.

Why don’t you eavesdrop on my inner dialogue with myself this summer:

“You better go bitch about something.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t feel bitchy today.”

“Impossible.”

“Really? Fuck you.”

“No.  Fuck you. Okay, fine, that was a little harsh. But seriously, you have nothing to rant about? No magazine articles to bash? No doctors to trash? No friends to out? No secrets to tell?”

“Honestly? I feel overwhelmingly calm and content.”

“Really? What’s THAT all about?”

No, I haven’t wandered off to a mountain retreat in India. I’m not sitting cross-legged with my Buddhist friends. I haven’t even been to see Eat, Pray, Love.

But summer has a way of washing over me.

Of making me feel like everything is right with the world; as opposed to everything being wrong.

Don’t worry. I haven’t made my grand ascension yet.

Autumn and a new school year for my kids will likely bring with it plenty of germs, problems and ignorant people. But until then, I will try to practice what I preach.

Breathe deep. Enjoy the peace. Embrace the silence in my head.

Sometimes it’s ok to stick what the doctor orders up your ass.

Meaning: Take the little paper from the prescription pad, or the free sample, and shove it where the sun don’t shine.

A less violent, and more eco-friendly version of this tactic would be to respectfully decline the prescription before she hands it to you. Or to give the free sample back to the nurse.

I’m not suggesting you be careless, ignorant, or defiant. I am suggesting, however, that you don’t HAVE to do exactly what your doctor orders every single time he proclaims a medicinal answer to your problem.

Instead, I hereby grant you permission to visit the doctor to have something checked out, and only checked out, not “fixed.”

I hereby grant you permission to see the doctor so you can have your insurance pay for routine bloodwork that you then turnaround and give to your acupuncturist.

I hereby grant you permission to take your child to the doctor to make sure it’s not a bacterial infection, and then say “no thank you” when you are offered antibiotics for what may or may not be viral (and won’t be cured by the penicillin anyhow, but will surely cause a yeast infection.)

I hereby grant you permission to take up more of your doctor’s time than he has allotted.

I hereby grant you permission to ask him to look up the contraindications of a medicine he’s planning on prescribing you.

I hereby grant you permission to say “yes,” “no,” and “maybe” even if it makes you come off as insolent.

I hereby grant you permission to have second thoughts about a test or a medication you are unsure about.

I hereby grant you permission to stand up for yourself or for your loved one in the face of being told you are wrong.

(You might be. Or you might be right.)

For years, health writers have been reporting results of studies that show how people with strong friendships live longer, healthier lives. So this new study out of Brigham Young University is not surprising. However, the comparisons between social interaction and other well-known health stats are a bit intriguing:

Having no friends is:

• Equivalent to smoking 15 cigarettes a day
• Equivalent to being an alcoholic
• More harmful than not exercising
• Twice as harmful as obesity

Speaking from personal experience, I know that the more time I spend with my friends…whether it’s laughing or gossiping or sharing intimate details of my life…the happier I am.

There’s one problem I see with this easy access health fix. How often do we really allow ourselves time to connect? (And I don’t know if casual interaction on Facebook necessarily counts as “friendship.”) It’s hard enough for most of us (especially those of us with young kids) to fit in a regular exercise routine. We’re expected to wake up before the sun to fit in a morning jog, work an 8-hour + work day, come home and spend quality time with our children, have sex with our spouse, and then be awake enough to chat with our friends? How?

I see only two choices: Run away or integrate your community into your life and your life into your community.

Choose a workplace or a school or a neighborhood with like-minded folks.

Choose a job that’s your passion or your pleasure.

Choose a partner who is also your friend.

Find a book club.

Those have all worked for me.

Otherwise, you might as well pick up a pack a day smoking habit, ’cause your chances of survival without friends is slim.

My friend Judie and I were joking today that we’re like yin and yang. She’s a fitness goddess…running two marathons in the last week or so. I, on the other hand, had to check the dictionary to make sure I was using marathon correctly in a sentence. (I’m still not sure.)

Whereas I know every last ingredient in every piece of food I’ve eaten over the last three days, focusing particularly on whether or not the ingredients were organic, whole grain, or gluten-free; Judie says she could slack less and commit more to buying organic for her family.

Who’s healthier?

Depends on who you ask. Or, more likely, it’s a trick question and the answer is “both and neither.”

In a perfect world, Judie and I would take each other on as pet projects. She’d goad me into running with her and I’d clean out her pantry once a week. I don’t think that will happen. But, I do think that subconsciously we’re inspiring the other to take on areas of our lives we should be looking at more closely.

I’m not quite ready to train for a marathon (though I promise it’s on the half-assed version of my imaginary Bucket List), but I’m getting a little closer.

Would it be way too trite for me to say “Knowing is half the battle?”

‘Cause it is.

Plus, it doesn’t hurt to have friends on your side.

The second half of the battle?  Choosing to advance…and then pushing through.