I am a walking library of alternative and self-administered remedies. I don’t write about them. First of all, practicing medicine without a license is illegal. Secondly, “everyone” already knows “everything” about health, medicine, and nutrition. This last goes double for self-righteous, selfish, ugly, fat people. They know that their problem is their “genes” and has nothing to do with their sense of entitlement borne out of obedience to authority and apple-polishing.
The notion that someone like me would ever marry a doctor is ludicrous. But, that’s what I did. I had thought that given that he was not just an M.D. but a PhD, and was from an entirely different background, culture, and nation would compensate for that choice. In the end, he taught me many things. However, on balance, not only did I teach him more and give him more, he will probably live longer than me as a result. I console myself that at least I still know how to love and came out with my character nearly intact. The funny thing about character is that given a choice between survival and character, most people will choose survival. As for me, I chose the survival of creatures I loved but that backfired horribly.
Nevertheless, sometimes I weigh all the pros and cons and crunch the numbers and otherwise determine that I need to compromise on my own principles. What I mean by that is that occasionally I patronize the mainstream medical establishment. The level of establishment varies but I even sometimes find myself patronizing professionals who are part of medical groups, accept insurance, and who otherwise follow standard protocols with regard to the patronization of testing laboratories. Those doctors who continuously bend the rules may find themselves being ratted out by those same laboratories. Any lack of conformity is grounds for marginalization. I try to be sensitive to that fact when I patronize such a practitioner.
First, however, there tends to be a gauntlet of forms, personal interactions, magazines, and television.
Daytime television it would appear consists of women sitting around talking to each other complimenting each other on fussy hairstyles, clothing, and manicures; and complaining about men. Their inane banter is interspersed with frightening news items, and soothing commercials.
Survival for poor women consists of being “saddled” with babies and not being able to work while spending an inordinate amount of time fussing over hair, clothing, and fingernails. Failure to conform to this stereotype would result in marginalization from both income and social acceptance among their peers.
I advise men who are not rich (and even those who are) to learn to eschew women who are overly fussy with those three things. If you want to change the world, however, I would suggest corresponding with your favorite pornography producers and ask them to start showing women who are similarly modest in appearance. Once you find a woman who you believe is capable of love over mere self-interest, ask her to give up two things for you: 1) The approval and acceptance of her peers; 2) Her television.
Just my suggestions.