It started innocently. A collagen powder here, an omega pill there. And then perimenopause knocked, menopause kicked the door in, and somewhere along the way I grew a slightly unhinged pharmacy in a huge kitchen cabinet that I am the sole patient of. Powders. Patches. Gummies I chew with real commitment. A tin that says AGE SLOWER on it like a dare.
A few weeks ago a woman I’d just met at dinner asked, in total earnest, if I was in the wellness industry. I laughed. And then I thought about it. And then I claimed it right there over the entrées. Yes. I am.
I’ve been on a quest to feel good in my body for years now. The interior spiritual and emotional work was a huge piece of the puzzle. The many other variables that I believe got me to the age of ‘34’, I mentioned in my last essay.
It’s been eleven months since I’ve consumed alcohol.
But the rest? 100% for sale. Products. I cannot hand you a spreadsheet proving which capsule did what. Some of this came into rotation this very summer and I genuinely cannot tell you where the supplements end and the life begins.
But here’s what I do know. I haven’t been sick in about a year. Not once. I have more energy at 51 than I did at 45. And I feel good in my body, which is a wilder and better thing than looking good in a mirror. So take what calls to you and leave the rest.
And since you’re here on my Substack, a reminder about what SUBSTANTIAL means in this context. Beauty from the inside out, quite literally. The whole industry is finally catching up to the idea that the real work is regenerative, cellular, below the surface. Not lifespan, but healthspan. Not more years in the mirror, but more good years in the body. That’s the shelf I’m building. That’s the life I’m trying to curate, for me and for you.
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