Why is it that the longer I live, the larger my vitamin pills get?
Good grief. I find myself falling back on that old saying, “We can put a man on the moon, but ….” Why on earth can’t we manufacture a calcium pill that is smaller than the average football?
And even at that size, we are supposed to take it three times a day. At this point in my life, I can’t remember to do anything three times a day.
I searched high and low for a vitamin pill for the “over 50” set that supposedly needed to be taken just once a day. I was so excited, I didn’t read the label thoroughly. They had to completely leave out the calcium and iron. Yeah … great.
All I can say is that my gag reflex is getting the workout of its life and that my throat is not in proportion to my big mouth. (You know you were thinking it.)
Come on, AARP. Come on, medical science. Let’s think small. Let’s fit it all on the head of a pin. It may not be the cure for cancer, but I promise you, it will be a gold mine. Remember what percentage of the world we boomers make up.
Is it not true that almost everything else in our world is shrinking? Contact lenses have gotten smaller. Computer, cameras and iPods have gotten smaller. Women’s clothes have certainly gotten smaller. Cellphones aren’t a good example, but CDs are smaller than records. DVDs are smaller than tapes.
Look at scuba gear. Hearing aids. Gourmet vegetables. The width of televisions. They even have a name for it – nanotechniques.
I want to also suggest that vitamin manufacturers keep working on those chewable vitamins. They claim to be like gummy bears. They are not.
The chewable form of calcium needs to keep working on those flavors. They’re just weird. The chocolate is actually Tootsie Roll flavor, which we all know is a far cry from a Dove bar. The caramel just barely qualifies and the strawberry and vanilla are too nasty to even consider.
We also need them to be sugar-free, folks. Don’t they know their primary market is always on a diet?
I’m at the point where I would be willing to have my vitamins injected once a month, like a B12 shot. I used to hate needles, but one zap in the arm (or wherever) has to be better than a shredded esophagus and a stomach that rattles. How about a vitamin patch? Or even gum?
For now, the reality is that I might be required to swallow these horse pills for the rest of my natural life. It’s too much. I am — you guessed it — all choked up.
Jean Gillette is a freelance writer who would also like to miniaturize her waistline and shoe size. Contact her at [email protected].
