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Plastic surgery is fast becoming acceptable to the society, even by those with conservative standards. While it has long been used for medical purposes only, nowadays, people have turned to the surgical knife to improve their appearance.
Although this medical practice has been around for a while, not many people know that plastic surgery dates back to two millenia ago, in India. It has just caught fire in the 19th and 20th century because surgeries before were definitely not a safe procedure. Perhaps, St. Ignatius of Loyola is one of the first few people who had plastic surgery done purely for aesthetic reasons — his leg was hurt in the war and he did not like his limp, it did not do well with the ladies.
There are two main kinds of plastic surgery: reconstructive surgery, and cosmetic surgery. There is no definite black and white when separating the two types as they generally include techniques from both fields. Reconstructive surgery is usually employed for medical purposes, and some common examples include:
* cleft lip surgery
* breast reconstruction surgery for those who have had mastectomy
* contracture surgery for burn survivors
* sex reassignment surgery
Cosmetic surgery on the other had, is done mostly for aesthetic enhancement.
When one is considering cosmetic surgery, it is best to be extremely careful in choosing a doctor as less than skillful hands can mar the body and self-esteem for life. All types of surgery always include a considerable amount of risk. Remember, cheaper is not necessarily more value, and second, even third opinions are helpful. Listen to receommendations of friends and select from the members of a certified and accredited medical organization such as the American Society of Plastic Surgery, which must be recognized by the American Board of Medical Specialties. There are actually other laypersons who have created their own credible-sounding organization to lure in unsuspecting patients. Make sure you pick on a plastic surgeon with appropriate credentials. Take a look at their portfolio of patients, their before and after pictures to get a grasp of what you're getting into. Don't be afraid to communicate with the surgeon in order to avoid any miscommunication or mistakes. Different types of cosmetic surgery include:
* Tummy tuck (abdominoplasty)
* Liposuction
* Collagen, fat, and other tissue filler injections
* Eyelid surgery (blepharoplasty)
* Mastoplexy (breast lift)
* Nose job (rhinoplasty)
* Cheek augmentation
* Chin augmentation
* Breast reduction/enlargement (augmentation mammaplasty)
* Buttock augmentation
There are some people who actually become addicted to cosmetic surgery. These people are diagnosed with a body dysmorphic disorder, which involves having a disturbed body image. People who have these are extremely critical of their appearance, causing them to have repeated cosmetic surgeries, which in turn can cause irreparable damage to their human body structure. This disease can affect one in 50 people.
Cosmetic surgery can cause people to have a "rejuvenated" self-image although it is necessary to take caution and not go overboard with too many procedures. It can turn into an ugly, costly, and irreversible addiction.
If one is interested in having their physical appearance augmented, one must consider the following seriously:
* The surgeon. Choose one with the necessary qualifications and ask around if necessary. Rely on your gut feeling. You shouldn't have to feel suspicious about anything.
* The procedure. Do your research so you know what you're getting into.
Remember, it's never too late to back out of what you don't feel comfortable doing, lest you're surgically inducing your way to a permanent mistake.
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Hormone therapy is known as one of the treatments for prostate cancer. We have heard success stories with hormone therapy for prostate cancer patients from Internet and medical publications. Here we discuss why hormone therapy can be applied to treat prostate cancer. The prostrate gland is found near the base of the urethra.
This is the tube that carries urine from the bladder out through the penis. The front end of the prostrate gland surrounds the urethra and the rear part of the gland presses against the rectum. The prostrate gland is found in the males and is susceptible to tumor growths. These tumors can be benign or malignant. Malignant means that the tumor is cancerous and life threatening.
Faulty Genes Put Right With Hormones
Having a cancerous prostrate tumor is no cause for alarm because if the tumor is diagnosed well in advance, for which there are many symptoms the layman can understand, the prostrate gland can be surgically removed along with the tumor. Thus, one can prevent the spread of the tumor to other parts of the body through the blood and lymphatic system.
It is very rare to find a patient under fifty to have prostrate cancer. The patient can become weary of a tumor on the prostrate gland if he finds the following symptoms: dribbling before or after urinating, feeling that the urinary bladder is never empty completely, discomfort or pain while urinating and passing of blood sometimes while urinating, false calls or frequently wanting to urinate without actually urinating.
Getting Rid Of the Gland
Apart from having the prostrate removed surgically, there are some hormone treatments for prostrate cancer as well. Some of these hormone treatments have known to have produced dramatic results. But, then it is the stage of the disease as well as the age of the person who is treated that also counts.
Doctors all over the world have known for a long time now that cancer can be treated with hormones as prostrate cancer has been known to be hormone or gene related. For instance, men who have had prostrate cancer in the family are more likely to contract the disease that men who have no family history of prostrate cancer.
Even men with the history of breast cancer in the family run the risk of developing prostrate cancer. This led to research on treating cancer with hormones. Research has shown that men live longer with prostrate cancer if it is treated with hormone therapy along with radiation treatment.
The standard hormone treatment is for three years but in many cases dramatic results have come about within six months of the treatment. Researchers from Boston's Brigham and Women's Hospital discovered that men treated with six months of androgen suppression therapy in addition to radiation improved faster and better than men treated with only radiation.
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I really don’t know how to say this any other way. My dog decided to talk to me the other night and he had a lot to say.
It initially played like any other night really. Once again, I was tossing and turning, in and out of sleep. I was half awake, mulling over my job situation: I want to make money writing but I need an income more. Then the most bizarre thing happened.
“Hey human Bob! This is your best friend speaking! Wake up!”
Who the hell was that? It was a deep, low voice; strong and certain with a hint of a bourbon induced slur. Sounded like Dean Martin actually. I immediately sat up. It was pitch black. The radio clock blurred 3:53 in a dull crimson light. All I could make out was the shadowy outline of Parker, my trusty beagle, sitting upright at my feet.
“Hey boy, did you hear that?” I whispered instinctively. “Someone’s in the house.”
My vision was starting to warm up to the darkness. Parker just stared back at me, his head tilted, his long ears hanging to the side of his head like hand towels on a wall. He turned his head to the bedroom doorway, lifted his nose to the night and sniffed. He turned back to face me.
“Don’t think so.”
I swore Parker spoke but it couldn’t be. I mean his hound drawn lips seemed to move to the words I heard but that was impossible.
“Who’s there?” I yelled into the night. “Whoever it is, I am warning you that I am at this moment retrieving my loaded double-barrel twelve gauge from under the bed. I will shoot you. So leave now and I want to hear the door slam behind you.”
I made some dumb noises in a lame attempt to fool the intruder into believing what I had just proclaimed. I took the ruse to the next level.
“Okay. I’m fully armed and about to call 911 from my fully powered cell phone. Oh yeah, strong signal, four bars. Oh yeah, this is going to be a very clear 911 call.”
“You’re breaking me up. Put the phone down human Bob.”
It was Parker talking. I was certain of it. Nah, it had to be a sick trick.
“Okay, good one Steve. You wired up the dog with a little speaker. Very funny.”
My brother Steve was known to go to great lengths to pull off pranks. But I was pretty sure he was at his apartment in the city, sixty miles away, God knows doing what, and at 48 years old, unlikely to suddenly bother me with a prank—it had been 25 years since his last one. But the mind scrambles to the most implausible scenarios when so duly challenged.
“Don’t think so. Nope it’s me, Parker,” the dog mumbled.
I was positive he spoke again. By now I was sitting straight up, leaning towards him. He just sat there and looked at me with those big dark eyes. His poker face was on.
“Parker? Are you talking to me?”
“Well I’m not talking to myself.”
I leaned back against the headboard. He yawned.
“This can’t be. I’ve got to stop watching Animal Planet.”
“Listen, I’ve got something to say and I’m not sure how long this talking stuff is going to work so …”
“You are talking!” I interrupted incredulously.
“Should you want I bow wow?”
“Holy cow! Parker you are talking.”
“Yup. But I’m not sure for how long. So can I say a few things before …”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Yeah I know. Either can I but if you don’t mind.”
I looked at him with a giant smile plastered across my face. Parker can talk. The dog was talking. Who was I kidding? It had to be a prank. He continued.
“I’ve been listening to a lot of that talk radio and that C-SPAN channel you watch while you write. I’m here to tell ya I don’t like what I’m hearing.”
“You’re kidding me right?”
“Afraid not.”
Oh this was good. I was really hallucinating. Talk-shmalk, I had a few nagging questions of my own.
“Hey, can I ask you something before you get to your stuff?”
“Make it quick. I haven’t got all night.”
“You like smell things a hundred times more than we do, right?”
“Four hundred.”
“Okay, four hundred. Wow! Then I really wonder about this.”
“Yeah I know. Why do we like to sniff every morsel of excrement or yellow patch of urine we encounter on our walks?”
“Now that you bring it up, yeah, why? It must smell like the inside of Dick Cheney’s or Ted Kennedy’s septic tank? And you know how much crap they’re filled with.”
“That was a funny one human Bob. But it isn’t like what you smell. We pick up a lot more notes. It’s a broader pallet if you will. We don’t smell stink. We smell identity, mood, and illness. For instance, you know that crazy cairn terrier down the street?”
“Yeah.”
“She has stomach cancer and her humans don’t have a clue.”
“You are kidding me?”
“She probably has less than six months if they don’t get her to a vet soon.” He paused to lick his right front paw. “Yeah, and another thing. Don’t take me out at nights for awhile.”
“Why?”
“Cause there is a rabid possum living under the porch. That’s why.”
“You know this from the smell of possum poop?”
“Excrement.”
“Whatever.”
“Yup.” Parker yawned as if bored. “So is that it? Can I say what I need to say?”
“Well there is that thing you do with that licking your, you know, your …”
“Penis?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Jealous are we?”
“Well, it’s just that …”
“It’s all about keeping clean. Nothing pleasurable if that’s what you’re driving at. Nothing like what you do with your hand. By the way, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t pet me afterwards. Nope, no pleasure; it’s all business. You made sure of that when you had me “fixed”, remember. Thank you very much.”
“Oh yeah, sorry about that. I had no idea you knew any different.”
“No idea my butt. I’ll ‘no idea’ ya.” He paused again to lick his right paw again and then continued. “But I don’t hold it against you. We don’t hold grudges. Heck, if we did, we would have mauled most humans dead by now. Which brings me to why I am talking to you.”
“No grudges. Really? I mean that “fixing” stuff is pretty serious. That’s pretty good if that doesn’t bother you.”
“You done? Can I get to my concern?”
“Sure. Sorry. Go ahead.”
“How can humans be so smart supposedly, while they single handedly are destroying the Earth?”
“You mean global warming?”
“It’s more than that. It’s the air. It’s the water. It’s the dirt. It’s the forests. It’s the killing. It’s the anger. It’s the hate. It’s the grudges. It’s the fear. It’s everything.”
“Oh come on. You’re being a little dramatic.”
“We don’t know dramatic.”
“Well give me examples of what you mean.”
“First of all, the air is filled with danger. Dogs, cats, birds, animals of all kinds can smell it. It is our biggest topic when we get together.”
“I don’t smell a thing.”
“Yeah, that’s part of the problem. And you can’t taste the troubled water either.”
“Scientists don’t seem to be complaining. So I should be listening to a dog?”
“We have no agenda. Dogs call it as they smell it.”
“ ‘call it as they smell it’; I’m suppose to just accept that?”
“Yeah, there is a lot you should just accept.”
“Oh yeah, like what else?”
“Well, and here is what I think is the crux of the problem, you keep choosing the wrong alpha humans.”
“What?”
“You’ve got this alpha thing all wrong. Just because animals order their packs based on physical size and strength doesn’t make it so for humans. We do it because we are simple. You do it because you are thoughtless. That’s what we, and I think it is fair to say I am speaking for all animals, don’t get. Humans are able to think things through. But they never do. Well, that’s not completely true; some have but they are mocked or marginalized.
An alpha dog barks and gets all puffy, like that wacky shepherd Sarge from around the block. The worst he can do is break out of his electronic fence and charge one of us. But you humans take it up a notch.”
“Can you give me a for instance?”
“God there are so many. Let me see. Okay, you’ve elected a president who pounds his chest and walks around like a gorilla with its arms all out to the side, all tough and all, carrying on with ‘bring it on’. When he jumps the fence, he brings tanks and bombs and humans loaded down in weapons and in body armor. Meanwhile, you have alpha males all over the place, flexing their muscle in their packs, threatening to obtain nuclear weapons, the great equalizer, giving the president one excuse after another to hop the fence. It’s nuts. And I for one am telling you, you’ve got it all wrong.”
“Well, I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything. Just start picking the right alpha humans; humans whose visions see beyond fighting, whose hearts hold no grudges, whose thoughts and reasons are not the products of testosterone, whose collective knowledge is rooted in the concept that true peace is never the consequence of war but the outcome of constant learning, negotiating and adjusting.”
“This is what you want to tell me? Nothin’ for nothin’ but it’s a little heavy for a little chat with a dog at 3:30 in the morning.”
“In a nut shell, yeah.”
It was hard to accept this from my beagle. I mean, he’s a dog; a sleeping, eating, sniffing, crapping dog. I was chalking this whole episode up to stress. I was apparently snapping.
“That’s it. I’m pretty much done. Just one last thing while I have the chance.”
“What? World hunger? String theory?” I asked sarcastically.
“You get the right alpha humans and the world hunger thing will take care of itself, smart ass. As far as string theory, who do you think I am, Hawking? I’m just a dog. No it’s more pedestrian than that, something I think you can manage.”
“Then what, already?” I asked impatiently.
“You know that thing you do occasionally where you empty the dish washer in the buff.”
“Ummm … yeah I guess.”
“Put some clothes on. It’s disturbing. I’m beggin’ ya, please!”
“All right, but only if you lick your privates in private.”
“I’ll see what I can do. No promises.”
“So this is it? No more talking? You know we could make a fortune on Letterman with his stupid pet tricks.”
“It’ll never happen. You see, this is a one time deal. Not sure why or how this is happening. Maybe that God guy is involved somehow. All I know is that when it is done, it is …” He abruptly stopped talking.
“Parker?”
Not a grunt. He yawned and as he did he stretched his front legs out and spread across the foot of the bed, his ears resting flat on the blanket.
“Parker … are you done? Is that it?”
He slowly closed his eyes and floated off to sleep.
“Parker … just like that?”
He began to twitch; in hot pursuit of a fox I imagined.
“Holy smokes. I must be dreaming myself.”
I curled back down under the safety of my covers, scratched my butt and thought about the conversation I had just had with Parker or myself or both. I sniffed the air. It smelled fine to me. What the heck was he talking about, ‘danger in the air’? It had to be a dream.
As I drifted off to sleep, I thought about getting a real job real soon, apparently this writing stuff was getting the best of me. I also made a point to remember to talk to the owners of that crazy cairn terrier. I thought it was the least I could do. One can’t be too dismissive of the unexplainable these days.
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The other day, my mother, who compulsively shops for anything you can think of, bought me a bag of sunflower seeds, as I went through a phase of eating them about a decade ago.
First of all, this was a completely redundant gesture, as they were just the seeds, and everyone knows that sunflowers seeds taste of absolutely nothing at all, and the only pleasure to be derived from them is cracking the zebra-coloured shell to extract them.
No good deed is without merit, however, and in eating them I did manage an idea, which, as those who know me will tell you, is a laborious and taxing process at best.
According to the packaging (which, perhaps naively, I find no reason to doubt) these sunflower seeds were bought in a branch of Boots and are part of a "meal deal."
Now who, exactly, aside from perhaps squirrels and other small fluffy mammals, would ever consider sunflower seeds a "meal" ? Granted, perhaps Boots receive a lot of custom from numerous pigeons and small tits, but this still doesn't explain how I ended up with them as my mother doesn't even HAVE small tits.
Sorry, I seem to have digressed and in doing so swerved perilously close to the territory of the "fat momma" joke, which I'll avoid.
Meanwhile, back on the subject at hand, why is Boots (are Boots? is Boots? I hate shops with no apostrophes) selling food in the first place?! If a butcher had a deal on moisturiser and sun-tan lotion, I think I personally would give it a miss, but somehow a shop that's know for medicines and cosmetics has started offering meals and none of us has batted an eyelid.
Food in general, now that I mention it, has been getting stranger, lately. McDonalds, in a frankly ludicrous attempt to improve it's image, has started offering salads as a direct result of Morgan Spurlock's "Super Size Me."
Something about this bothers me, and I can't quite put my finger on it. Kudos to Mr. Spurlock for shaking an empire to it's core, it's impressive by any standards and far more than the more high-profile Michael Moore has managed to do. (Although one does suspect Moore eats all his meals at McDonalds and just forgot to film it...)
McDonalds, though, is about grease. It's about grease, and junk, and things that will, probably, give you a McCoronary sometime before you make it back to your car A coronary which, by all accounts, you can make bigger and more life threatening for a bargain 30p.
McDonalds isn't SUPPOSED to offer good food. Everyone knows that McDonalds is bland and bad for you, in the same way we know that alcohol is bad for us and we'll all regret it in the morning. Several months ago I thought I'd have a go at a McDonalds chocolate donut, and it was f*cking horrible. I remember remarking to those around me in my witty, Wilde-esque style, "This is f*cking 'orrible."
Doesn't matter. I still have one whenever I go in, now, and they're still terrible.
My point is this: NOBODY goes to McDonalds for a salad. In fact, I wouldn't trust anyone who did. I think I'll add that to my list of character indicators. Never listen to anyone who doesn't like "Columbo", and never trust anyone who goes to McDonalds for a salad.
Salads go against the whole POINT of McDonalds, and I personally think that they should have more balls than to run for cover when their "secret" gets out. Tobacco companies have known for years that cigarettes kill you, as have the public, but they don't suddenly branch out and start a new line of Malboro Lollipops as a healthy alternative.
Another thing that's worried my lately, food-wise, is the reappearance of Pepperami. For those too young to remember, or those living in another country, Pepperami is best described as a stick of peppered meat in a wrapper.
I've always been bothered by them, principally because nobody has yet proved to my satisfaction that it isn't just the spiced penis of some unknown animal that the snack-hungry public has sent rocketing towards extinction, but over the years I sort of forgot about them. Now, all signs (TV adverts, posters, the Beast running loose in the streets of Bethlehem) point to it coming back. We should be on our guard.
Now, some people may level the fair and accurate criticism at me that everything I write has no real structure; that I'm prone to going off on tangents and that I always end abruptly and inconclusively. This is true.
To these people, however, I say that if you can find another article on the web that goes from Sunflower seeds to animal penis by way of a chocolate donut, then good luck to you!
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Too many women are inclined to forget that they have feet until something happens to call their attention to them. A beautifully formed foot is as charming to the eye as a beautifully shaped hand. Every woman should have a knowledge of the practical facts which make for her physical beauty.
Shoes have much to do with preserving or distorting the natural foot outline, and in this connection several practical facts should be remembered. First, that every woman's shoe should be broad enough to let her toes rest flatly and naturally on the sole. Second, that a low heel throws the weight of the body on the instep. If you feel that broken arches are a slight penalty to pay for tottering about with the silly helplessness of a footbound Chinese woman of the old type, by all means wear highheeled shoes.
If you will have "French" heels — and to the average man a woman looks ridiculous in them, though politeness bid him disguise his feelings — there is nothing more to be said. Do not wear old shoes about the house. They will make your feet shapeless. The dyes in cheap stockings often run. If you have a slight skin abrasion or a cut, you may get blood poisoning. Hence pay more for your stockings (silk, lisle or silk and wool) rather than risk infection.
FOOT MANICURING
Always cut your toenails straight across, using a nail clip, or nail scissors. Ingrown nails always result from cutting away the corners of the nail which support its forward part. If you smooth the nail edges with emery, a good deal of darning will be saved.
FOOT AILMENTS
Calluses.—Calluses very often develop on the sole of the foot. They also form on the toes, where they turn into hard corns, or between the toes, where they become soft ones, and are capable of causing severe pain. Like bunions, flat feet and fallen arches, calluses and corns are a logical result of the wearing of tight or ill fitting shoes.
Good corn plasters give relief. There are also good acid solutions for corns, but they must be applied to the hard skin of the corn only. It is best, however, to have a good chiropodist remove corns, since he is able to take out their core. The "vascular" corn (made up of small blood vessels), which is less common, should always be taken out by a chiropodist.
Bunions.—Bunions are beyond proper home treatment. They are produced by pressure on the big toe, causing inflammation of the second toe joint. A preliminary callus turns into enlargement of the joint, and, in many cases, motives much suffering, and inability to wear a shoe. If the shoe pressure which causes the bunion be removed, the callus will disappear, but not necessarily the bunion. When bunions are long standing it is not always possible to cure them permanently. A bunion should at once be referred to a chiropodist.
Ingrowing Nails.—Their origin has already been mentioned. Treatment should consist in bathing in hot water, then raising the injured portion of the nail, and inserting pieces of lint or absorbent cotton as an artificial support. Then scrape the nail longitudinally. The lint or cotton support must be renewed from time to time, until the nail has reverted to normal. If a proud flesh condition has developed it will be best to go at once to the chiropodist, instead of attempting a cure yourself.
Flat and Fallen Arches.—Both these foot troubles are beyond any home treatment. Fallen arches, once they have definitely dropped, cannot be completely cured. Both diseases, in most cases,result from improper footwear, high heels, and shoes wrongly balanced, and each and every case usually needs individual treatment.
Chilblains.—Chilblains, one of the most common of foot disorders, can usually be cured at home. It comes from cold or frost, and does not start in feet which have a good blood circulation. Soaking the feet in hot water, rubbing and massaging with warm spirits of rosemary and turpentine, and exercise are the remedies. Exercise, especially, restores the circulation, and alleviates the redness, the burning feeling and the intolerable itching which are the signs of the ailment.
FOOT PERSPIRATION AND PERSPIRATION IN GENERAL
Foot Perspiration.—Perspiration we associate more directly and more perceptibly with the feet than any other part of the body. There is a reason. There are more perspiration glands in the feet than anywhere else on the body, save in the palms of the hands. Daily bathing, night and morning, is the best preventive of excessive foot perspiration. It is well, when you are thus troubled, to add a little alum to the water (it should be warm), and after drying to powder the feet with boracic powder. Or, if you prefer, use a soothing lotion for "feet that are weary" and perspiring, made up of equal parts of alcohol and witch hazel. Hot water, however, is a sovereign specific for all sweaty feet.
Perspiration in General.—We are perspiring all the time. Our perspiration glands are constantly throwing off the waste matter of the body, and bathing serves the double purpose of keeping the pores open so that this matter may be discharged, and removing it in order that no disagreeable odors result from its presence. The soles of the feet, the armpits, at times the forehead, chest, and neck are perspiration centers.
Perspiration is usually not excessive when a woman is in good general health, or when it is not a result of violent exercise or unusual temperature conditions. But when it is habitual and unchecked it robs a young woman or girl of all that charm of daintiness and appeal which is her right and privilege. There is no odor more immediately and more resentfully noticed than that of dried perspiration. It clings not only to the body, but to the clothes. Perfumes and scented powders do not hide it, and it always awakens disgust.
Frequent bathing, frequent change of undergarments and stockings, and a free use of talcum powder or "odorono" are all indicated. Never imagine that the use of talcum instead of soap and water will do away with this unhappy scent. After washing, always and invariably after washing, is powder to be used. The poet has coined the phrase "honest sweat." But there is no such thing as "honest sweat" in feminine beauty's bright lexicon of charm. Perspiration, especially at evening affairs, dances, etc., steals away that natural freshness and fragrance of aura which should surround woman.
