Does alcohol make me fat? August discoveries

August was an amazing month. I learned a lot about myself.

Apparently, I looked like a young lady to my oral surgeon (at least he calls me so) and like a 55-year-old lady to a cashier at Shoppers Drug Mart.

My numerologist told me that I have a high level of consciousness, that in my previous life I was a magician on a demonic planet of Eden type, that I should cook without recipes, and I will be able to heal people in the future. Not sure what to do with this new knowledge, but I consider it as an invitation to grow. After all, I am a great admirer for all whimsical aspects of life.

I also learned that my iron level is super low. When my doctor informed me that my iron level is 8, I told her not to worry about it as I feel pretty energetic, and my hair and nails are fine. She probably wanted to say that I am nuts, but she did not. Instead, she said “The lower normal level is 15 and I would like to bring your level to 50.” I knew that I would not get to 50 with my current diet and agreed to take FeraMax capsules for 30 days. The doctor warned me of the annoying side effects of taking iron supplements, but I decided to ignore her warning with a hope that constipation, darkened stool and nausea would avoid me completely.

In August I also hit a new low or new high by going to work and then partying toothless (by toothless I mean without two upper front teeth). Amazing, right? I lost those teeth in a curling accident at the end of February. In August I was supposed to get implants. When the oral surgeon opened up my gums, he told me that I would get implants in two stages: first, a bone graft and then implants in 4-6 months. He then filled my upper jaw with many small pieces of sterilized human (former human) bone, stitched up my gums and gave me a prescription for antibiotics and Peridex (anti-gingivitis rinse that makes your tongue dark; darkness was following me in August). My gums looked like gums from a horror movie; still do. The next day I went to see my denturist to adjust my dental flipper so it would not squish all those new bone pieces in my gums. The denturist adjusted the flipper and told me that it fits perfectly, but I should take it out when I eat. Somehow, I was not convinced, and I wanted to order him “Cross your heart and swear by your practice that the flipper will not squish my bone graft.” Wishful thinking. That night I slept for 10 hours but woke up with a swollen upper lip. It was so bad that my husband called me Bart Simpson. The next morning my lip got much better, but I was still afraid to put the flipper on. My husband told me to channel Alex Ovechkin and go to work without the flipper. So I did. My colleagues were very supportive and encouraged me to join them for dinner after work. The dinner at Jamaican restaurant turned into drinks at a lovely bar. And few glasses of Pinot Gris turned me into brave and alluring Tooth Fairy. Being silly and illogical sometimes helps us keep an idyllic perspective on the things and life in general. 

When I woke up next morning, I felt 2-3 pounds heavier than the day before. “Does alcohol make me fat?” I asked, but there was no one home to say “No, it doesn't.”

On the last day of August my friend Dina introduced to foot reflexology. My masseur was a young and nice guy and Dina’s masseuse was not young, but nice lady. I was so impressed by the guy that I wanted to book him for a lymph drainage massage. When I asked the salon receptionist to book me with the guy, the receptionist and Dina’s masseuse laughed really hard and told me that it's done only by lady to lady. Dina’s masseuse offered her service and recommended acupressure before the lymph drainage massage. I agreed to her offer but booked my masseur for acupressure. They looked confused but could not resist my offer. I hope I did not remind them Mrs. Robinson from The Graduate.