Embracing imminent death

In an attempt to lower my freakishly high cholesterol, I turned to my fabulous friend L, who is a born healer. She’s a chiropractor, acupuncturist and nutritional guru. She’s a little insane in that she drives through the city like she’s still driving a rusted-out ’72 pickup across her ranch and I always fear for my life when she’s behind the wheel. But other than the vehicular homicide, she’s totally on this earth to heal. For reals.

So, she suggested mega doses of fish oil, green tea and niacin to lower ye olde LDL. This prescription did come with a warning, tho.

“Niacin will make you want to kill somebody.”

I laughed. And now, I am so totally not.

Niacin causes a bit of a flush. Like, after you take it, you turn into The Incredible Hulk. Except red, not green.

I’ve been channelling my inner Lou Ferrigno for the last two weeks. I’ve been trying to get a handle on the ins and outs of the flush. Sometimes I don’t flush at all. Others, I flush for an hour. On Thursday, I was in a meeting with my boss – three hours after taking the niacin – and he interrupted himself to say, “Umm, you’re all blotchy.”

Unacceptable. I refuse to be the resident leper of Corporate Behemoth.

Today, I am flushing more than usual, probably because I had the gall to have two glasses of wine last night. And a Pabst. Because I’m klassy like that. But c’mon – if somebody offers you a Pabst, you totally have to take it.

And so, the slight dehydration means I’m literally the color of a red crayon. And I’m shivering, because the flush also means you flash. And then when the flash subsides, you’re flippin’ cold.


I gave it two weeks. I get an A for effort. I’m going to have high cholesterol and have a heart attack at 31. Fine. At least I’ll retain my usual transparent skin tone, upon which my brother once commented, “I’ve seen milk darker than your skin.”

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