Yes, you can burn those bras with confidence. Sagging boobies? According to a 15-year study led by professor Jean-Denis Rouillon, your bra may be contributing to sagging breasts while not wearing a bra will help keep them…um, perky.
"Medically, physiologically, anatomically – breasts gain no benefit from being denied gravity. On the contrary, they get saggier with a bra," Professor Rouillon told France Info radio on Wednesday. [Image Source, Venusian Glow, Does this bra fit ? How do I tell ?]
If you can believe one of the commenters, she supports this idea of losing support:
Maia • 14 hours ago ?
I haven’t worn a bra in almost 20 years, I’m 50 this year, and my breasts are in perfect shape – they feel no different from when I was 20.
I’ve come to the end of a genuine two week vacation. I’m very relaxed (except a dog is whining at me trying to shake my calm). It would be easy to slip into a state of anxiety because the list of things I didn’t accomplish that I wanted to over the break is very large. Depressingly so. But the list of things that I did accomplish, including days committed to sleeping in and chillin’, is substantial. This break included the Christmas holiday of course so time was committed to preparing for the day including shopping, wrapping and cleaning. This break included playing games with the children (albeit not enough..2013 shall include more play time with the children) and visiting relatives. This break included an overnight camping trip that started at 32°F and dropped to 22°F then rose to 42°F. It was cold and a sore knee had me concerned that the hike out would be too difficult but the trip was probably the best thing for the knee (2013 shall include more exercise).
For my final Sunday of my vacation, I plan only one thing. Anything else is bonus. The one thing I will accomplish today is to plan a cub scout meeting.
Remember that physics class in college with the really cool machine that would stretch the metal rods until the deformed and snapped. Yup. I’m the rod.
You will forget your training (you aren’t a professional) so just do compressions and don’t worry about the rest
The crowd will be an obstacle. Managing the crowd is as important as managing the victim. If you have a leadership skillset and can issue instructions instead of doing the CPR yourself, focus on managing the crowd. Get them to shut up so the caregivers can focus on the victim.
If you aren’t doing the CPR, the caregiver giving the CPR is probably having a lot of self-doubt. Reassure them that they are doing it correctly. And by correctly, I mean doing compressions.
No one knows what an AED is (see also). And despite your training, you will forget to ask for one but that’s okay because it turns out most restaurants and businesses do not have one (which is not okay).
Get trained in CPR (see also) and review your training regularly. Remember, it is the victim’s emergency and not yours. Stay calm and take action.
[n.b. This is the event as I remember it. I tried not to add embellishments. I have no idea how others saw this play out.]
Cathy had a beginning of a migraine and our Saturday go to place, Stirfry Cafe, had a private event for another hour. I took Cathy to Surin. It’s a quiet restaurant with a large Budda and a fountain in the main seating area and is generally serene. I was under-dressed which may or may not have been the reason we were seated in the lounge area. In hindsight, their seating was unbalanced so the tshirt and jeans probably had little to do with the seating location.
We joked with the waiter. Our food came. Then there was a commotion which we presumed was the wait staff singing happy birthday to a patron. Then a waitress ran into the back yelling, "does anyone know CPR?"
I was on my feet before thinking. As I raced through the lounge to the main room, my first thought was "what about liability?" I know about the good Samaritan law and the thought almost didn’t complete as it was interrupted with a rush of memories of my CPR training. Then I exited the lounge and entered the main dining area and the scene made me freeze. The victim, a larger man probably in his mid-60s, lay on the floor pale white. Eight to a dozen people surrounded the victim. A person on the phone, apparently with 9-1-1, tried yelling instructions. Someone pumped on the victim’s chest while others cried, "is he breathing?" A relative cried hysterically and was eventually carried away by the wait staff. There were too many people. I blanked. Surely someone more knowledgeable than me would take control. I’m an authoritarian leader with a loud voice but I could not get myself to utter the words, "I’m trained. Everyone be quiet and let me help." The person giving compressions walked away. I recognized my gloves and breathing mask were in the car. I failed to ask the manager if they had an AED. The victim made a noise and someone declared, "He’s breathing." He wasn’t. His mouth foamed with a sticky white grossness. I recognized another man going through my same hesitation. He and I both knew what to do and were hesitating. A man yelled, "move, I’m with the sheriff’s department." He was as uncertain as the other guy and me. He kneeled beside the victim and I could see him going through the steps we’ve all been taught but not doing compressions. I started to push him aside to begin compressions myself but he finally began pumping the victims chest. The crowd continued to scream mixed instructions like the audience at a boxing match.
I heard instructions of CPR trainings that the Red Cross had altered for so many years. I heard "he’s choking" "clear his airway" "Roll him on his side" "Turn his head" "Push on his stomach" To that one I loudly refuted, "No! Do not push on his stomach. Keep your compressions on his sternum." I felt like I was screaming at the ocean and my words were quashed by the crowd. I should have announced, "if you aren’t giving CPR, please back up and be quiet so we can save this man." I couldn’t. My mind was too busy trying to figure out what I should be doing to help. I considered giving the victim mouth to mouth but I didn’t have protection and my last trainer really implored us to always use a mouth guard and gloves. Plus I know that the current philosophy is that breathing for the victim does little to help and that chest compressions move oxygen to the brain and dislodge blocked airways. Compressions. Compressions. Compressions. Besides, in my heart of hearts, I knew this guy was gone. He’d died before he hit the floor. I chose not to do mouth to mouth.
The guy from the sheriff’s department stopped compressions. I could read in his face that he was questioning whether or not he was forgetting something. I shouted, "Keep doing compressions. Staying alive!" Anyone with recent CPR training has been taught that the Bee Gees song Staying Alive is the correct tempo for chest compressions. Coincidentally, I was reminded of this fact this morning while reading Life Pro Tips on Reddit.
LPT: If you have to do CPR, keep the beat by singing “Stayin’ Alive” (exact rhythm of CPR) (self.LifeProTips) by drdeteck
I felt my shout was unheard but the guy doing compressions returned to doing compressions. Someone asked for gloves. I ran to the car for mine forgetting that a restaurant probably had boxes and boxes of gloves and sure enough when I returned he was gloved but it was a new guy doing the compressions and the guy from the sheriff’s department had moved to the head of the victim. I said, "let me know if you need help with compressions" but I doubted myself. The guy from the sheriff’s department said, "Tell me if you are tired." While I was getting my gloves, I could hear the ambulance coming. The restaurant propped the doors. The crowd screamed, "Get out of the way. The paramedics are here." I shouted back, "Keep doing compressions until the paramedics tell you to stop." My voice trailed into the abyss. The paramedics rolled a gurney into the restaurant and the crowd said in unison, "Get out of the way." I spoke back, "Keep doing compressions." Or did I think it? As the paramedic got beside the man doing compressions, he stood up to get out of the way and without a word, the paramedic gently placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down to the victim to keep doing compressions. I turned back to the lounge to see my wife standing there. We returned to our table. Forced down our final bites of food. Paid the bill and drove solemnly home.
I have just completed a wonderful vacation, yet I find myself so stressed that I cannot think straight and an unclear mind does not lend well to eliminating the causes of the stress. Stress in this regard is a self-perpetuating disorder. Once upon a time, a hunter in the field was met unexpected by a herd of lion too numerous for the hunter to engage. Fight or flight stimulus, aka stress, kicked in and the hunter fled to safety where his adrenaline returned to normal levels and the hunter calmed. In today’s society, our stress response rarely eases and our body and mind suffer. I have been under constant stress for twenty years. I am ready to escape to safety. I want to know calm.
I’ve been 7 nights in the Utah canyons (8 days) with 2 days in a hotel on either end for a total of 10 days away from the usual rigaramor (hmmm. can’t find a proper spelling nor definition). I swore to return with a clean mouth and even temper. I did return super chill but am finding my reintegration into society trying to drag me back into the pre-canyon temperament as strongly as the Sirens tempted ships to the rocks. I will not succumb!
I’ve earned my knee socks. That’s right, I’ve been Scoutborged. With Noah working up the ranks in Boy Scouts and Evan having begun scouts as a Tiger scout, I find myself a leader in both Cubscouts and Boy Scouts and Cathy has earned her Scout Widow badge. In June, I will be going on an adventure with Noah to hike in the Canyons of Utah for 9 days (with no cell phone or Internet!) This past weekend, Amy, Evan and I toured and slept overnight in The Lost Sea Caverns. The Weekend before that, Evan and I hiked for miles around Camp Buck Toms, slept over night, and came home with ticks. The weekend prior to that I slipped while doing yard work and torqued my knee. And today, three weeks later, my knee is still tender, hurts to touch, and I cannot put much weight on it.
So, I just paid $25 to have my doctor tell me I’m out of shape. End of story. So to celebrate, I decided to go to Cookout and have a cheese burger with onions, french fries, and hush puppies..MMMMMMmmm. While waiting for my food, I look around the joint and every morose soul there is 2 to 3 times my overweight size. They don’t speak or smile. Slow Jesus rock emanates loudly from the store speakers. For a moment, I consider leaving the five dollars and change worth of heart disease on the counter to escape quickly. In weakness, I grab the food and Cheer Wine float, return to work, and joined a gym.
Husband to one wonderful wife, father to five fantastic children, juggler, technophile, freelancer, DIYer, adventurer, volunteer, KO4NFA (2m/70cm), WRMJ225 (GMRS)
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