Jessica Bennett Facebook ad: “Feel Like Yourself Again”

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My 3 grandkids begged me to get on the trampoline at our family reunion last June and I told them my knee was acting up. My knee was fine. I've had a bad right knee since 1998 when I slipped on a wet gym floor at the elementary school where I taught, so it's always a believable lie. I've used it my whole adult life to get out of things. Skating parties. Bounce houses at church picnics. That inflatable obstacle course they set up at the Douglas County fair 2 summers ago. But June at the reunion was different. Because my knee actually was fine that day. The real reason I told the kids no was because I'd had a bone density scan the January before, and my doctor had used the word osteopenia, and then she'd used a couple of other words I don't want to type out, and she'd told me to "be careful about high impact activities." I sat in the parking lot after that appointment and I googled what happens when someone with my scan lands wrong on a trampoline. I closed the browser tab before I got to the bottom of the first article. I'm Lorraine. I'm 61. I taught elementary school music for 34 years in the Lawrence, Kansas school district, mostly at Hillcrest and Sunflower Elementary. Retired 2 summers ago. I live in a little bungalow on Ohio Street about 8 blocks from the KU campus with my husband Danny, who drove a route truck for Frito Lay for 39 years and finally hung it up last April. We have 2 kids and 3 grandkids. Our daughter Missy lives 40 minutes east in Baldwin City with the babies. Our son Grant is in Kansas City with his partner Jared, no kids, but they come home for every holiday and every birthday like clockwork. The reunion in June was at my brother Wade's place out by Lecompton. Big yard. Above ground pool. Trampoline that his 4 grandkids use every weekend. The 3 little ones from Baldwin City, Callie who is 7, Piper who is 5, and Beau who is 3, came running at me the second we got out of the car. "Grandma, come jump." Beau was already tugging at my hand. I said the thing about my knee. Piper said, "You always say that." She's 5. She's already onto me. I laughed and said, "Well, next time, sweetie." Callie looked at me for a second in a way 7 year olds shouldn't be able to look at their grandmothers. Then she took Beau's hand and they ran off to the trampoline without me. And Missy watched the whole thing from the picnic table. She didn't say anything either. I could feel her not saying anything from 20 feet away. I want to tell you about that scan. Because if you're a woman in your late 50s or your 60s or your 70s, you may have gotten one just like it. And you may have done exactly what I did, which is nod at your doctor and take the little printout home and put it in a drawer and never talk about it to another human being. Mine came back in January 2024. My primary care doctor is a woman named Dr. Bhatnagar and I like her. She doesn't rush. She doesn't lecture. She looks at you when she talks. She said, "Lorraine, this is not where I want you to be, but it's not somewhere we can't work with." The T score was worse in my hip than in my spine. She didn't want to prescribe anything yet. She said try weight bearing exercise, calcium, D3, and come back in 18 months. Then she said, "In the meantime, I'd be careful about high impact activities. Trampolines. Skiing. Anything with a fall risk." I nodded. I said okay. I did not tell my husband. I did not tell my kids. I did not tell my sister in law. I did not tell my best friend Sheila from the school district who I have coffee with every Thursday. I told nobody. Because here is what I found out about scans like mine. The moment you tell someone, it becomes a thing. It becomes something you have to talk about. Everybody has an opinion. Everybody has a supplement they saw on TV. Everybody has a story about somebody's mother who broke a hip. I did not want to be somebody's mother who broke a hip. I wanted to be Lorraine, the music teacher, who taught 34 years of Lawrence kids to sing Do Re Mi and could stand on her head for 20 seconds at the end of the year assembly. So I put the printout in the drawer under the toaster. And I started saying no to things. Not just the trampoline. I stopped taking the stairs at Dillon's. I started using the little elevator up to the pharmacy counter. I stopped hiking at Clinton Lake with Danny. We used to do the Sanders Mound trail every other Saturday. I told him my hip was bothering me. Which it was. But not for the reason I let him think. I stopped picking up Beau. He's 3. He's got the little round belly and the tight fists and he lifts his arms every time he sees me and I stopped picking him up. I'd bend down instead. I'd tell him grandma has a bad back. Grandma didn't have a bad back. Grandma was afraid of what would happen if she straightened up with a 32 pound 3 year old in her arms and her hip did the thing the scan said it might do. I was living my whole life around a number I hadn't told anyone about. And I was so, so tired. Not physically tired. I mean the other kind of tired. The kind where you stop being able to show up as yourself. That was the thing that broke me at the reunion. Not that I didn't get on the trampoline. That Callie looked at me the way she did before she took her brother's hand. She'd figured something out. She's 7. She'd figured out that grandma wasn't going to jump with them, ever, and she made a little decision about that. I sat at the picnic table with a paper plate of pulled pork I didn't eat and I watched my 3 grandbabies bounce on the trampoline for probably 20 minutes. Callie was doing seat drops. Piper was mostly just falling over and laughing. Beau kept trying to hold onto the net. And I thought, one day soon they're just going to stop asking. That's the part nobody warns you about with something like this. It isn't that you break. It's that they stop asking. They learn. They adjust their whole idea of grandma to fit around what grandma won't do. And by the time you're 70, grandma is the woman on the porch who watches. And you didn't decide that. You just didn't say no when it started happening. I was almost to that porch. Missy sat down next to me halfway through the trampoline session. She said, "Mom, what's going on." I said, "My knee's flared up, honey." She was quiet a long time. Then she said, "Aunt Faye told me you got a scan." I about dropped the paper plate. I had not told Faye. I had not told anybody. I said, "How does Faye know that." Missy said, "Because Aunt Faye had one 4 years ago that was worse than yours. She figured out that's what was going on with you. She said she watched you turn down the ladder into the pool 10 minutes ago and she just knew." Aunt Faye is Danny's sister. She's 66. She lives about 45 minutes down the road in Emporia with her husband Ron. She used to run our high school's yearbook program before she retired. She's the kind of woman who reads a person the way I used to read a piece of sheet music. Missy said, "She wants you to call her. She said you'll want to hear what she's been doing." I called Faye that night from the guest bedroom at Wade's house after everybody else went to sleep. Sat on the edge of the bed with my phone against my ear. She picked up on the first ring like she'd been waiting. She said, "Lorraine. Honey. I've been where you are." Faye's scan in 2021 was worse than mine. Her hip T score was rough. Her spine wasn't much better. Her doctor at the time in Emporia handed her a prescription pad and a list of don't do's and she went home and sat in her kitchen and thought about her granddaughter Josie's wedding, which was 3 years out at the time, and whether she'd be able to walk down the aisle without a walker. Faye said she did what I did. She stopped everything. She quit the pickleball league at the community center. She quit hauling her own groceries in from the car. She sat down more. And she said she got quieter. That's the word she used. Quieter. For about 9 months. Then her best friend from way back, a woman named Roberta who'd moved out to Fort Collins, Colorado, came home for a visit and stayed 4 days. And Roberta was 68 and she was hauling her own suitcase up the porch steps and she was carrying her 2 year old great niece around Emporia Park like it was nothing. And Faye said she asked her, over pie at the Granada Cafe, "Berta, what are you doing that I'm not doing." Roberta had been through her own version of the scan. She'd been through her own year of putting the printout in a drawer. And she'd started, on the recommendation of her daughter in law who was some kind of nutrition consultant out in Denver, taking pomegranate. Not the juice. Not the seeds. The peel. Faye said she almost laughed at Roberta at the Granada Cafe. She said, "Bert, I've been reading about calcium supplements and this fancy prescription my doctor mentioned. I don't need to hear about a fruit." But Roberta talked her through it. And I'll tell you what Faye told me on the phone that night in the guest bedroom, because it was the first thing anyone had said to me in 5 months that made me feel like I understood what was actually happening in my body. Faye said, "Lorraine, everything in your body is a system. You know that. Your bones aren't a rock. They're not just sitting there getting harder or softer. They're constantly being taken apart and rebuilt. Every day. There are cells that break down old bone. There are cells that lay down new bone. When it's working, the rebuilding keeps up with the breaking down." She said, "But that whole cycle, that whole environment where your body is doing this delicate work, it gets worn down over the years. Stress wears it down. Processed food wears it down. The world we live in wears it down. And most of all, aging itself wears it down. What builds up in that environment is what she called oxidative stress. Roberta called it rust." Faye said, "Imagine rust settling into the exact environment your body uses to keep your bones strong. The rebuilding cells can't work like they used to. The breaking down cells still work fine. So slowly, over years, the balance tips the wrong direction." Faye said, "And that's what a scan is. It's a photograph of a balance that's been tipping for 20 years." She said, "You can't undo 20 years. But you can address the environment. You can help clear the rust. And when you do that, the cells your body has always had, doing the work they've always done, they can start doing that work in a cleaner environment." I sat on the guest bed and I didn't say anything for a long time. Then I said, "And pomegranate does that." Faye said, "Not any pomegranate. The peel. The peel is where the compounds live. They're called punicalagins. They're some of the most studied antioxidant compounds in nature. Roberta's daughter in law had 40 pages of printouts. I read them all. The peel has been studied on exactly this kind of oxidative stress. On the environment where your body is trying to do its work. Not just bone. Joints too. Tissue. The whole area." She said, "You can't eat the peel. Nobody does. That's why nobody gets the benefit from just eating a pomegranate or drinking the juice. The juice is nice but it's not where the compounds are. The seeds are nice but they're not where the compounds are either." She said, "You have to concentrate it. You have to standardize it. And you have to do it right." She said, "There are a lot of pomegranate supplements out there. Most of them standardize to something called ellagic acid, which is a cousin compound. Not the same thing. The research is on the punicalagins, but most bottles skip that because it's harder and it costs more. So they put pomegranate on the label and they sell you the cheap piece." She said, "The one I take is called Auniva. It's the peel. It's standardized to the punicalagins. Made in the USA. Organic. And it's the one Roberta's daughter in law had spent 3 months comparing before she landed on it." She said, "I take 2 capsules with my coffee in the morning. That's the whole routine." She said, "It's been almost 3 years. My last scan was better than my first. Not perfect. But better. My doctor said she'd never seen numbers move in that direction at my age. I didn't tell her about the pomegranate because I don't want a lecture. I just told her I'd been walking more." Faye said, "But Lorraine, listen to me. It's not really about the scan. The scan is a number. What it's actually about is I can carry Josie's flower girl down the aisle at that wedding next month. Because I'm going to." I asked Faye where to get it. She told me. auniva.co slash pom slash 5. She said, "They give you 90 days. If it's not doing anything for you, you send the bottle back and they refund every penny. There's no argument. There's no runaround. That's just how they do it." I ordered it before I got off the phone. Sitting on the edge of the guest bed at my brother Wade's house at 11:20 PM in June, in the same pajamas I'd worn to the reunion cookout, listening to Danny snore next to me. It came 4 days later. I started taking 2 with my coffee the next morning. I didn't tell Danny for a while. I want to say something honest here. The first 4 weeks, nothing changed. I want to say that because I know what it feels like to want something to work so bad that you start imagining it's working when it isn't. I'm a 61 year old music teacher. I'm not a fool. I was watching myself for signs and there weren't signs. Faye had told me. She said, "This is not a pill that hits you in an hour. This is you giving your body an ingredient it hasn't been getting, in a form it can actually use, and letting the environment do its work. Give it 4 to 8 weeks. Maybe more." Week 5 I noticed I got up from the low couch in the family room without pushing off the arm. That is a small thing. I know that. But I'd been pushing off the arm of the couch for a year and a half. Week 6 I hauled 2 grocery bags from the driveway to the kitchen in one trip. Both hands full. Didn't think about it until I was setting them on the counter. Week 7 I bent down to pick up Beau in Missy's driveway and I straightened up with him in my arms and I walked him inside and I didn't feel scared for one second. That was the first week I told Danny. I told him about the scan first. All of it. Everything I'd been carrying since January of the year before. He got quiet. Then he got teary. Then he got a little bit mad that I hadn't told him. Then he came around and he held me for probably 10 minutes at the kitchen counter. And I told him about Faye and the pomegranate. Danny is not a supplement guy. He worked a route truck for 39 years. He believes in coffee, aspirin, and one beer with the game. He said, "Well. If Faye is doing it, and if it's helping you, then I want you to keep doing it." That was that. Week 8 I did something I hadn't done in a decade. Missy had the kids at our house for a Saturday overnight. Danny and I had blown up the big kiddie pool in the backyard. Beau was in the pool. Piper and Callie had dragged the little trampoline out of the shed. It's the tiny kind with the handle. I forget what it's called. The mini one. Callie said, "Grandma, watch me." She jumped for a minute or 2. Then she looked at me and said, "You do it." I looked at Danny. He didn't say anything. Just gave me the smallest nod. I stepped onto the mini trampoline. I bounced twice. Very gently. Nothing crazy. My feet barely left the mat. Callie squealed like I'd done a backflip. Piper came running from the pool with her wet feet slapping across the patio and she climbed up next to me and held onto the handle and we bounced together, tiny bounces, for maybe 40 seconds. Beau was screaming from the pool. He wanted his turn. I lifted him out with both hands. I straightened up with him wet and squirming in my arms. I set him on the trampoline and I held his little hands and we bounced together. Nobody knew what a big deal it was except me and Danny. He was on the back deck holding a beer and he was crying. I'm telling you this because I know how many of you have a printout in a drawer. I know how many of you nodded at your doctor and didn't say anything for the next year. I know how many of you have said no to the pool and the stairs and the grandbaby's outstretched arms and told yourself you were being smart. I know how many of you have watched your grandkid figure out that grandma isn't going to jump with them ever, and stop asking. I am telling you what my sister in law Faye told me on the phone in a dark guest bedroom in Lecompton, Kansas, at 11:20 at night. You can address the environment. You give your body the ingredient it's been missing. You give it 4 to 8 weeks. You take 2 capsules with your coffee. It's Auniva Pomegranate. Two capsules a day. It's the peel, not the juice, not the seed. Standardized to the punicalagins that the research is actually on. Made in the USA. Organic. They give you 90 days to try it. If it isn't working for you, you ship the bottle back and they refund every penny. That's the whole deal. You aren't stuck with it. I don't work for them. I'm just a retired music teacher in Kansas who almost let her grandbabies grow up watching her from a porch chair. If this sounds like the drawer under your toaster too, here's where I ordered mine. 👉 https://auniva.co/pom/5 P.S. I need to say the peel thing one more time because it took me the longest to understand. When you eat a pomegranate, you eat the seeds. When you drink pomegranate juice, that's the seeds and the flesh pressed. When you buy most pomegranate supplements at the pharmacy, they'll say "high in ellagic acid" on the label. All of that is nice. None of it is where the actual research punch is. The punicalagins live in the peel, and the peel is what gets thrown out. Auniva doesn't throw it out. That's the whole thing. That's why the routine is 2 capsules with your coffee instead of a whole glass of juice that doesn't do the same job. P.P.S. I keep thinking about Callie's face when I stepped onto the mini trampoline. Not because I did anything impressive. Because she'd figured out at 7 years old that grandma didn't jump, and I gave her back a version of me that did. If you're in the drawer stage of this, if you're doing what I did and hiding it from your family and living your life smaller and smaller, please listen to me. The kids are already noticing. They're already adjusting. You have time to change the story they're going to tell about you. But not forever. P.P.P.S. About the 90 day thing. I know some of you have been burned by companies that say they'll refund you and then they don't. Faye told me and it's turned out to be true. You call or email Auniva inside 90 days from when your order came, you ship the bottle back, they refund your money. That's it. There's no gauntlet. There's no chatbot maze. I ordered my second bottle before I finished the first one and I don't plan to be sending anything back. But it's worth knowing you have that door. 👉 https://auniva.co/pom/5

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Feel Like Yourself Again

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