Chapter Three

My Kitchen Looks Like a Branch of Holland & Barrett

It started innocently enough.

One collagen shot.

That’s how they get you.

Actually, that’s unfair.

Nobody got me.

I got myself.

I’d had such a noticeable experience with that berry-flavoured collagen, hyaluronic acid and vitamin C shot and my knees that naturally I became curious.

If that had apparently coincided with such a dramatic improvement, what else was out there?

This is a dangerous question to ask when you’re a menopausal woman with access to Google.

Because there is a lot out there.

Magnesium.

Vitamin D.

Vitamin C.

Zinc.

Turmeric.

Collagen.

Hyaluronic acid.

Protein powder.

Creatine.

Ashwagandha.

B vitamins.

Omega-3.

Every time I investigated one thing, I seemed to discover another.

Somebody would mention something over coffee.

I’d make a mental note.

Then I’d Google it.

Then Google would introduce me to six other things.

Before long, my morning routine was beginning to look less like breakfast and more like stocktaking at a small health-food shop.

There were bottles.

Tubs.

Powders.

Capsules.

Droppers.

And, of course, my expensive berry collagen shot.

I wasn’t giving that up.

My knees and I had reached an understanding.

I would stand in the kitchen looking at everything and think:

Surely being healthy shouldn’t require this much admin?

But before I could answer that question, there was another one I probably should have asked first.

Did I actually need all this stuff?

Welcome to the supplement rabbit hole

The internet is a dangerous place to be a woman with hormones and a debit card.

Search for one menopause symptom and within minutes somebody has a solution for you.

Tired?

Take this.

Can’t sleep?

Try this.

Aching?

Definitely this.

Brain fog?

You won’t believe what this can do.

Belly fat?

Apparently somebody has discovered the one secret that doctors don’t want me to know.

Doctors must be exhausted from keeping all these secrets.

Before long, you’ve spent £87.43 and apparently a mushroom is going to sort your entire life out.

I realised fairly quickly that I needed some rules.

The first was very simple:

“Good for menopause” isn’t evidence.

Neither is:

“My friend swears by it.”

Even when the friend is me.

I’d already done exactly that with collagen.

My knees felt so much better that I’d recommended my collagen shot enthusiastically to other women.

I still take my experience seriously.

I just don’t confuse it with proof.

So now, whenever I hear about something new, I try to ask:

What does the research actually say?

Sometimes the answer is surprisingly encouraging.

Sometimes it’s:

Possibly.

Sometimes it’s:

We need better studies.

And occasionally it’s:

The marketing department appears to have arrived several years before the scientists.

Protein: apparently we’re all talking about it now

Protein was already on my radar after everything I’d learnt about muscle.

And once I noticed it, I couldn’t stop noticing it.

Protein yoghurt.

Protein cereal.

Protein bars.

Protein shakes.

Protein puddings.

Protein bread.

At this rate I fully expected to find protein washing-up liquid.

Of course, protein isn’t some newly discovered substance designed specifically for menopausal women.

We’ve needed it our entire lives.

It supplies amino acids that our bodies use to build and maintain tissues, including muscle.

The difference for me was that I’d started thinking about maintaining that muscle.

I wanted Hercules back.

Or at least a slightly older Hercules who needed reading glasses and knew where the toilets were before ordering another drink.

So I started paying attention.

Not obsessively.

I wasn’t interested in turning every meal into a maths problem.

I just started asking:

Where’s the protein in this?

Sometimes it was obvious.

Eggs.

Fish.

Chicken.

Greek yoghurt.

Cheese.

Sometimes it was beans, lentils, nuts, seeds or other plant sources.

And sometimes I realised there really wasn’t much there at all.

Protein powder started making more sense to me as a matter of convenience.

Not magic.

Not medicine.

Convenience.

There are days when making something quick is the difference between eating reasonably well and standing in front of the fridge at 6 p.m. eating cheese directly from the packet.

Not that I’ve ever done that.

Obviously.

Moving swiftly on.

Collagen: the one that started all this

Collagen was different because I was already emotionally invested.

Or perhaps my knees were.

I’d taken that berry-flavoured shot containing collagen, hyaluronic acid and vitamin C and, after roughly three weeks, the knee pain I’d been experiencing on the stairs disappeared.

That got my attention.

It also got the attention of practically every menopausal woman I knew because I wouldn’t shut up about it.

Then I started looking at the research.

And this was interesting.

There is research suggesting that oral collagen supplements may improve pain and function in some people with knee osteoarthritis.

That’s encouraging.

But notice what I didn’t just say.

I didn’t say:

Collagen cures menopausal joint pain.

Those are two completely different statements.

Research conducted in people with osteoarthritis doesn’t automatically tell us exactly what collagen will do for every woman experiencing joint aches around menopause.

My knees felt better.

The research gave me a plausible reason to remain interested.

But it didn’t give me permission to promise another woman that her knees would behave exactly like mine.

That distinction became increasingly important.

Hyaluronic acid wasn’t just for faces

Hyaluronic acid was another surprise.

I’d always associated it with skincare.

Serums.

Moisturisers.

Tiny bottles containing approximately three teaspoons of product and costing roughly the same as a week’s shopping.

Then I discovered that hyaluronic acid occurs naturally in our bodies, including in our skin and joints.

Ah.

That made its appearance in my collagen shot rather more interesting.

There’s research into oral hyaluronic acid for areas such as skin hydration and joint health, although this is another area where I found it sensible to keep my enthusiasm attached to the evidence rather than the advertising.

I was beginning to develop a new phrase:

Interesting. Not magic.

I use it a lot.

Vitamin C: quietly getting on with things

Vitamin C seemed almost boring by comparison.

Poor vitamin C.

We’ve known about it for so long that nobody is particularly impressed by it anymore.

But it has an important role in normal collagen formation, including collagen involved in the normal function of skin, bones and cartilage.

Suddenly having vitamin C alongside collagen made rather more sense.

And this taught me something else.

An ingredient doesn’t have to be exotic to be useful.

Sometimes the least exciting thing on the label is quietly doing a perfectly legitimate job while the fashionable ingredient next to it is getting all the attention.

A little like women, really.

Then creatine walked into my life

Creatine surprised me.

I knew what creatine was.

Or at least I thought I knew what creatine was.

Creatine belonged in gyms.

It came in enormous tubs.

It was consumed by men with very large arms who carried shaker bottles and appeared to own several vests but no actual shirts.

It was not, in my mind, a middle-aged woman thing.

Then I started reading about muscle, ageing and menopause.

And there it was.

Creatine.

Again.

And again.

And again.

So I went looking.

This one genuinely interested me.

Creatine helps supply energy to muscle, and research in postmenopausal women has begun looking specifically at whether supplementation can help with muscle mass and strength.

Recent research is encouraging, particularly when creatine is combined with resistance training.

There was just one annoying detail.

Combined with resistance training.

Of course it was.

Apparently there was still no supplement that allowed me to sit on the sofa while my muscles quietly strengthened themselves in another room.

I felt science could try harder.

But creatine had moved firmly from:

Gym-bro powder I don’t need to think about

to:

Interesting. I want to know more about this.

Magnesium entered via the bedroom

Magnesium arrived for a completely different reason.

Sleep.

Ah, sleep.

Remember sleep?

That lovely thing we used to do all night without appreciating it?

I’d already tried bedtime drops.

I started cautiously and experimented with them over time.

And I genuinely felt they helped me fall asleep.

Brilliant.

Problem solved.

Except menopause apparently enjoys technicalities.

Because falling asleep wasn’t really my problem anymore.

Staying asleep was.

I could go to bed.

Get comfortable.

Fall asleep.

And then…

Ping.

Eyes open.

Middle of the night.

No emergency.

No loud noise.

No burglar.

Nobody requiring assistance.

My body had simply decided:

That’s enough of that.

And the moment I woke up, my brain arrived for work.

Hello.

No.

While we’re awake, shall we go through tomorrow’s jobs?

No.

Something embarrassing you said in 1997?

Absolutely not.

Would you like to calculate exactly how many hours and minutes remain until your alarm goes off?

Apparently we’re doing this.

Nothing I tried seemed to stop me waking up.

Then I started taking magnesium.

And something changed.

It still didn’t stop me waking.

That’s important.

I’m not rewriting history to make a supplement sound better than it was.

But I felt I could get back to sleep more easily afterwards.

That mattered.

Because there is an enormous difference between waking briefly at 3 a.m. and waking at 3 a.m. before watching 3:30, 4:00 and 4:30 arrive while increasingly furious with everybody in the house who has the audacity to remain asleep.

I also noticed something else.

My legs.

I’d been getting that horrible irritable, restless feeling in them during the evening and at night.

And that seemed better too.

Naturally, I thought:

Magnesium! Where have you been all my life?

Then I checked the research.

And science essentially replied:

Steady on.

A recent systematic review of randomised trials found that evidence for magnesium as a routine treatment for insomnia remains inconsistent and of low or very low certainty.

So once again I had two pieces of information sitting next to each other.

My experience: I felt it helped me return to sleep more easily.

The evidence: not strong enough to say magnesium routinely treats insomnia.

Both statements can be true.

And I actually find that reassuring.

I don’t have to dismiss something I personally found useful simply because the research isn’t conclusive.

But equally, my positive experience doesn’t give me permission to tell every other woman:

Take magnesium. It’ll fix your sleep.

It might not.

That’s the difference between sharing an experience and making a health claim.

Vitamin D: not glamorous, but rather important

Vitamin D wasn’t remotely fashionable.

No glamorous berry flavour.

No exotic plant on the packaging.

But when I started looking at bones and muscles, vitamin D kept appearing.

And unlike some of the more fashionable supplements, there is very straightforward UK public-health guidance around it.

Vitamin D is needed for healthy bones and muscles, and the NHS advises that adults should consider a daily 10 microgram vitamin D supplement during autumn and winter, when we cannot reliably make enough from sunlight.

Some people at higher risk of deficiency are advised to supplement throughout the year.

Living in Britain, this didn’t strike me as particularly shocking.

We do have sunshine.

I’ve seen it.

I have photographs.

So vitamin D earned a place in my notes for rather less exciting reasons than some of the others.

It wasn’t promising to transform menopause.

It was simply a nutrient I needed to pay attention to.

And I was beginning to appreciate the difference.

Zinc and the B vitamins joined the queue

Then came zinc.

And B vitamins.

Again, these are nutrients our bodies genuinely need.

Zinc has recognised roles in things such as normal immune function and maintaining normal skin, hair and nails.

Different B vitamins have different functions, including roles in normal energy metabolism, the nervous system and blood formation.

All useful.

But I was learning another important lesson:

An essential nutrient isn’t automatically an essential supplement.

If I’m already getting enough of something from food, taking more doesn’t necessarily make me healthier.

More is not always better.

Sometimes it’s simply…

more.

And if somebody is experiencing persistent fatigue or other significant symptoms, randomly buying vitamins shouldn’t replace finding out whether there is another reason for them.

Sometimes the answer might be nutrition.

Sometimes it might be deficiency.

Sometimes it might be menopause.

Sometimes it might be something completely unrelated.

Which takes us back to my first rule:

Menopause can explain a lot. It doesn’t explain everything.

Turmeric: suddenly my spice cupboard had a marketing department

Then there was turmeric.

I’d cooked with turmeric.

Turmeric was a spice.

Then suddenly turmeric—or more specifically curcumin compounds found within it—was everywhere as a supplement.

Joint health.

Inflammation.

Recovery.

There is research into curcumin for a number of conditions, including joint symptoms.

But again, the details matter.

Different products contain different amounts.

Formulations vary.

Absorption varies.

Supplements can interact with medicines.

And natural does not automatically mean safe for everybody.

This was another thing menopause research taught me.

I had unconsciously divided the world into:

medicine = powerful

and

herbal/natural = gentle

But plants contain biologically active compounds.

That’s rather the point.

Something being natural doesn’t mean it can’t interact with medication or cause side effects.

Hemlock is natural.

I won’t be putting that in my smoothie.

Ashwagandha and the promise of everything

Then I met ashwagandha.

Or rather, the internet introduced us.

Stress.

Sleep.

Energy.

Mood.

Hormones.

Menopause.

Judging by some of the marketing, I half expected ashwagandha to clean the bathroom and renew my car insurance.

This was exactly the sort of thing that made me slow down.

There is research into ashwagandha for certain outcomes, including stress and sleep.

But herbal preparations vary, and safety and medication interactions matter.

Current NICE menopause guidance specifically points out that the safety, quality and purity of some unregulated complementary preparations may be uncertain.

That doesn’t mean:

Herbs bad.

It means:

Ask better questions.

What’s actually in this?

How much?

What preparation was used in the research?

Is it appropriate for me?

Could it interact with anything I’m already taking?

And—one I’ve become particularly fond of—

Is the evidence as impressive as the front of the packet?

I developed a supplement test

By this stage, my kitchen cupboard needed an intervention.

So I developed my own little checklist.

Not a scientific tool.

Just something to stop me buying every interesting thing that wandered across my screen.

Why am I taking this?

Not:

It’s good for women.

Not:

It’s good for menopause.

What specifically am I hoping it will do?

What’s the evidence for that particular thing?

This question is surprisingly powerful.

There’s a difference between:

Magnesium is important for normal body function

and

Magnesium supplements will stop my menopausal insomnia.

The first can be true without the second being true.

Can I reasonably get this through food?

Because sometimes the answer isn’t another tub.

It’s lunch.

Is it safe for me?

Particularly if I’m taking medication or have a medical condition.

Am I already taking it somewhere else?

This one is sneaky.

Multivitamin.

Protein powder.

Fortified drink.

Menopause supplement.

Another capsule.

You can accidentally stack the same nutrients without really noticing.

And finally:

Can I actually see myself doing this long term?

Because there was another problem emerging.

Even when something seemed potentially worthwhile…

I had to remember to take it.

Did I take that already?

There is a particular type of midlife comedy involved in trying to remember whether you’ve taken the supplement you’re taking partly because you’re concerned about midlife health.

I’d stand in the kitchen holding the bottle.

Did I take this?

I’d look at the bottle.

The bottle would look back.

Neither of us knew.

Taking another one seemed unwise.

Not taking it meant perhaps I hadn’t taken any.

I considered developing a system.

Then remembered I’d have to remember to use the system.

Excellent.

And this was when I began looking at the whole collection differently.

Protein.

Collagen.

Hyaluronic acid.

Vitamin C.

Magnesium.

Creatine.

Vitamin D.

Zinc.

Turmeric.

Various other things I’d investigated.

Some had stronger evidence than others.

Some I could obtain perfectly well from food.

Some might be useful in particular circumstances.

Some needed more research.

Some simply weren’t appropriate for everyone.

And none of them was a magic menopause cure.

That wasn’t really what interested me anymore anyway.

What interested me was the bigger picture.

Muscle.

Bones.

Joints.

Nutrition.

Strength.

Healthy ageing.

I wasn’t trying to defeat menopause.

I was trying to look after the body that was going to carry me through everything that came after it.

That felt like a much healthier goal.

Surely there must be an easier way?

One morning I stood in the kitchen.

Smoothie on one side.

Collagen on the other.

Various bottles lined up behind them.

A tub.

Another tub.

Something with a scoop.

Something else I’d forgotten why I’d bought.

I looked at the whole lot.

And I laughed.

Because honestly…

This was ridiculous.

Not necessarily the individual things.

The process.

I’d started all this because I wanted to take better care of myself.

Yet somehow taking care of myself was turning into a small administrative role.

Measure this.

Scoop that.

Remember this.

Take that separately.

Check whether this one needs food.

Try not to forget whether you’ve already taken the other one.

And a thought occurred to me that wouldn’t quite go away.

Why is this all so fragmented?

Why did supporting my nutrition, protein intake, muscles, bones and everything else I’d been learning about seem to involve half the kitchen worktop?

Surely looking after myself could be simpler than this.

I didn’t have an answer.

Not yet.

So for the time being, I put the lids back on everything and returned the collection to its increasingly overcrowded cupboard.

Hercules had come out of retirement.

Unfortunately, she now required storage space.

And while I’d been investigating powders, vitamins and supplements, my body had plenty of other midlife surprises waiting for me.

Skin.

Hair.

Sleep.

Brain fog.

A bladder with increasingly questionable loyalty.

And a digestive system that would eventually decide it wanted its own chapter.

Apparently we weren’t finished.

Not even close.