Spincycle Diaries REWIND: What me? A hypochondriac?

By:  Talyn Terzian-Gilmour

These past couple of months this XX-something has been completely overwhelmed and…you guessed it, in the spincycle!  Please enjoy this revamped re-post and I promise to give you something new to ponder next month!

Aging is a funny thing.  Not laugh out loud funny…in fact, it’s downright depressing.  And as my speed train gets closer and closer to middle age ***ugh*** I’ve started to notice the “funny” a little more…like those funny little lines they call “laugh lines” and crow’s feet, or how my once full cheeks, that transformed into a more chiseled high cheek bone look (ooooh Christy Turlington) in my mid-20’s, are now just a couple of deflated balloons…speaking of which…NO, I will NOT go there but you know what I’m talking about…shh!  Gravity it’s entirely your fault!!!

The seasons changing and before long I’m going to have to shed the (protective) layers and squeeze myself into my shorts and summer skinny jeans…which incidentally, are the year’s before too-tight skinny jeans and I’m really not looking forward to an in-your-face I-told-you-so from my muffin top, thank you very much.  Unless it comes with muffins…mmmm…warm, blueberry muffins…or I could just buy a new pair but since I refuse to upsize, I’m just going to find myself in the exact, same squished predicament.  Ugh…why can’t the aging of humans be like the aging of a fine wine??

Still, this time of year continues to mark a time of beginnings – like the start of new life and springtime, birds chirping, buds forming on trees…yet I haven’t a clue as to where the time has gone!!  It feels like only a week ago when it was getting dark at four-thirty in the afternoon…

My mind jumps back to thoughts of summer…ah summer…my happy place.  Loafing around, hanging out by the pool working on my tan (responsibly of course), not having to worry about grades and homework, or of driving people here and there.  Ahhh summer, when I can put all my worries on hold and the only thing I’m competitive about is how many laps I can do swimming on just one breath…

But I have to snap out of it.  Wake up.  Time is passing quickly and shouldn’t I make a go of those resolutions I made only a couple of months ago?  You know…finding that fulfilling job, being able to run past the end of my street, eating more vegetables (blech) and what about planning that great South American adventure to Rio and seeing the Carnivale, the sugar loaf mountain and the giant Jesus.  To be surrounded by the warm breezes of Ipanema…

BAAAAHHH!!!  I digress…many of us make new year’s resolutions about being more healthy, doing more exercise and of course, eating a healthier diet, after all, taking one’s health into one’s own hands is important…don’t we have more to lose at this (***gulp*** middle) stage?  And if I’m not doing those things, then aren’t I just a ticking time bomb??? I’m just not satisfied with the attitude of those of my parents’ generation: 2 Tylenols and a good night sleep are not a good enough RX for me…particularly given my tendency towards hypochondriasis (real word, I swear!) and Googling!!

Speaking of which…I had a spot…on my back…a nagging, little, brown spot.  I could’ve sworn it wasn’t there a couple of months ago.  I worked myself up to the point where I asked the 7 year old what he thought of the spot…

Me:  Can you take a look at this?

7 year old:  What?  It’s your back.

Me:  THIS!  This SPOT on my back.

7 year old:  You have spots on your face.

Me:  [IRRITATED]  NOT my face!!  Forget my face.  And besides, those are cute freckles…well, no, not that one…or that one…oh my God, is that an age spot???   NEVERMIND THAT!!!   This one, on my back.  [Trying to reach over, angling to point out the spot while trying maneuvering in between two mirrors]

7 year old:  Oh.  It’s a spot.  A brown spot.

Me:  Does it look weird to you?

7 year old:  Huh?  I’m hungry.  When’s dinner?


And like I said, I know me…hypochondriasis.  Sometimes I get worked up for no legitimate reason.  Like, oh my goodness, I’ve had a headache for three days, is it a tumour?  Or, oh my goodness, I have a pain in my chest, am I having a heart attack?!  But while I think all of these things, somewhere deep down, I think I know that I’m overreacting – a particular gift of mine, I’m told…particularly by Mr. Niceguy.

A good friend of mine who has a knack for speaking the truth and being utterly genuine – even though you wouldn’t think it at first glance given his extremely stylish exterior – once gave me an analogy of how it feels when you’re in a particularly “sticky wicket”.  He said, that during times of utter, full blown, hypochondria, it’s like you’re an old, rolled up tube of toothpaste and the last drops of you are being SQUEEZED out by a giant thumb PRESSING on your neck.  Yup, that’s exactly how it feels when I think the sky is falling.

It turns out the spot was not as big a deal as I thought – at least it wasn’t a health risk…but it sure was a bit of a blow to the ego. And now, post spot removal, I wait for this wound to heal despite having yet another scar of undeniable aging.  Though perhaps I should view it more like progress?  An opportunity?  It’s knocking…so I’m going to open that door.  I’m going to revisit those resolutions I quickly forgot about in all the hub-bub and hoopla of these past two months.  After all, isn’t it better to just toss that old tube of toothpaste, pay the 5 bucks and get a chance to start over?  And who knows, I may even change the flavour this time.