EAAs and Creatine

The husband has always had tubs of protein powder of sorts. He now gravitates towards whey isolates instead of whey per se. Isolates result in a lighter drink and a higher ratio of protein derived. No milkshakes or smoothies for him. These whey isolates can be stirred into water and ice. That would do. A lot lighter and less sugar. 

I'm not keen on protein powder at all. Whey flares my IBS, even the isolates. I would need a plant-based protein powder. Whatever. I'm not into it. However, I'm not closed off to supplementation especially when I'm aging. My kidneys and liver are fine, and a little supplementation should aid bones and muscles. 

It took me a fair bit of research and a lot of thinking before I bought supplements in the form of Essential Amino Acids (EAAs) and creatine. I don't care about BCAAs — they're a subset of EAAs. The body can't produce the nine blocks that form EAAs. We take them either through diet or supplementation. Now that I can't really eat so much, and eating that much gives me indigestion, supplementing with powdered EAAs would work. It would also help with bone health and anabolic resistance. 

Now, creatine. 

Creatine is not an anabolic steroid, nor does it increase testosterone levels. The husband is keen on creatine gummies because they're convenient. I don't mind, but I think I prefer it as clean as possible, which means taking it in its powdered form. It can help with muscle breakdown and keeping my muscles nicely toned. I don't want to lose them. I want to offset any potential age-related sarcopenia. 

Some say creatine helps with brain fog. Okaaaay I'm not experiencing brain fog just yet. I don't know if it truly helps, but I guess it does help with cellular regeneration. That would do. It doesn't negatively interferes with female perimenopause hormones, so it should support a general feeling of well-being. 

I'm not into overloading on anything. I eat enough protein generally. I'm not into having extra protein via supplements. But I don't mind giving EAAs and creatine a try. There're so many brands out there. I chose Naked Nutrition. 

I'm not taking them every day. I can do EAAs once or twice a week, and creatine 3mg thrice a week. IThese could be mixed into juices or water with ice. My EAAs are completely unflavored, making it smell and tasting like tree bark. It can be quite gross, but I'm perfectly fine with it. I can add to to soy milk or whatever. The creatine powder is strawberry flavored, so if I toss 3mg in with the EAAs, that would suffice to flavor it although it doesn't mask that bitter aftertaste. 

These wouldn't affect our kidneys because we're not doing mad supplementation. More isn't better in this case. We're not athletes, and we certainly don't train at their intensity. We're hitting just under the recommended dosage, and we're hydrating so much. And honestly, increased exercise and these supplements have oddly, kinda curbed my inclination for the afternoon coffee, and even alcohol.

Off Antibiotics Now!

Choya is finally off antibiotics. This is metronidazole Round 2 that began on April 14. I was slowly tapering off, and once we were at June 12, and her poop was solid, I knew it was finally time to call it a day.

I didn't even finish the seven pills for Round 2. When I stopped the dosage, we stood at 5.5 pills. Yayyyy.  

Those darned active clostridium spores should more or less killed. Whatever's left would be balanced out by the usual bacteria in her stomach. All dogs carry clostridium of some sort in their GI tract. That normal amount is okay. An overgrowth of clostridium (whichever strain) is super annoying. It really takes some effort and time to eradicate. 

Doing three rounds of intensive antibiotics is never ideal. Round 1 told me that intensive doesn't quite work. Carpet bombing clostridium spores only meant driving a good chunk into dormancy and they would promptly flare within 48 hours once the pills were done. I prefer to taper. Although I wouldn't do this without checking in with a trusted doctor.

Tapering gives Choya's immune system a chance to recover at an optimal pace, and a better environment for the gut microbiome to get back into balance after Round 1. Keeping a minimal amount of antibiotics in the system allow the clostridium spores to get active, but get eaten up by the good gut bacteria that can still flourish. 

To be honest, I'm nervous of letting go of the antibiotics. They've become my crutch. I gotta have confidence in my hypothesis, backed up by the poop that I've seen over the last two weeks — that Choya's gut is balanced now and is perfectly capable of dealing with mild unwanted bacteria and could produce the solid dense poop that I want. 

Had a celebratory little lunch plate for Choya. Her meals are just fine. Keeping them basic and clean.

May your poop be solid-gold, sweetheart. 

The Burdens Laid Upon a Firstborn Immigrant Daughter

This is the sort of story that I don't fancy reading. I highly dislike stories about mother-daughter relationships. I don't to read about all the pressure and stress of being a 'firstborn daughter', much more an immigrant daughter who carries the entire clan's hops and dreams. It's madness. Still, I scanned through it quickly. This is 'Firstborn Immigrant Daughter' by Taiye Selasi, published in The New Yorker on May 31, 2026.

The story is written in as a letter to, well, a firstborn daughter of immigrants. There were ten points the letter-writer addressed. The ten points are PTSD-inducing to me. The author is spot on about what mothers expect of firstborn daughters. I see these expectations are selfish, unrealistic and serves to dominate rather than nurture. 

In an interview with the same journal, the author was asked what exactly did she see mothers want, and if the expectations of immigrant mothers of their daughters, and firstborn daughters are higher, never mind if they have older sons.

At one point, you write, “When the mothers of your friends from the New Country coo, ‘All I want is for my daughter to be happy,’ you laugh. Your mother doesn’t want her daughter to be happy. Your mother wants her daughter to be impressive.” For a girl, how challenging is it to grow up with those kinds of expectations when her peers might be having a completely different experience of childhood and adolescence?

It’s an invisible challenge, no? We know that girls outperform boys at school. We know that immigrant girls—here I include class migrants, permanently emigrating from the underclass to the upper—are pushed to outperform their peers. But we rarely stop to ask: Who is working harder, in any country, than an immigrant daughter? Founders, lawyers, novelists, pharmacists, actresses, a former Secretary of State—is there any single demographic more consistently high-performing? Because we often occupy (or ascend to) the same social rank as nonimmigrant men, these men are called our “peers.” But I know few nonimmigrant men who can match the hustle of an immigrant daughter. If we ran twice as far, twice as fast, to reach the same point as these men—then, by definition, we are faster runners (not equals). Our hustle is peerless.

A mother's expectations of me is my true horror story. A mother who keeps reminding you she gave you all that she had, and that guilt is enough to bind the child to the parent forever. It took me years to acquiesce that I will never live up to her expectations, and it's okay. It took me years to recognize how selfish her expectations are. 

It also took me years to understand that the extended family has no right to raise me or discipline me if I don't want it. I have little affection or sentimental feelings about 'Childhood Homes'. My fondest memories of my childhood don't involve my parents. I have neither attachment to houses and homes, nor photographs and personal knick-knacks or things. 

I think this is a story that can be felt differently by readers. The expectations are so powerful that it will affect us (daughters) in different ways, whether we're immigrants or otherwise. It's so chilling that I got the heebie-jeebies at the end. 

A daughter, by contrast, as your mother knows well, born a daughter herself, is a belonging. She belongs to the family, to the village, to the culture, to the Church, to the Old Country, but to herself? No. Because your mother was a girl once, she was owned, too, and though abandoned or betrayed by her owners she believed them when they told her, as they liked to do often, that a woman unowned is unloved. Despite her brilliance and her resilience, your mother still believes that a woman is safest in the world as a wife and that a wife is safest in a marriage as a mother—hence your father, hence her fury, hence you. Point being. When your mother chose your father—if (1) she did choose, and we pray that she gave her consent, and if (2) one can be said to have chosen a man when “no man” was never a choice—if your mother chose your father, she did so in part to be safe, to be claimed, to be owned. As a girl in the Old Country, she could not own herself. As a woman, she sought out a co-owner. Then, given that a mother cannot own a son, her first shot at ownership was you.

By “firstborn daughter” we mean only this: the first thing your mother could own.

.....................

Third. If you wish to belong to yourself, you must forgive your mother. She knows not what she does or has done. But we do.