Skinny jeans could leave you weak in the knees, literally.
One woman was hospitalized for days after her jeans caused her to lose feeling in her legs, according to a study published in the Journal of Neurology, Neurosurgery & Psychiatry.
The study said that squatting in skinny jeans can damage nerves and muscles in the legs.The
35-year-old woman had spent her day helping a relative move, squatting
for hours as she emptied closets. When she was walking home that night,
her feet grew numb, and she tripped and fell. Immobilized, she spent
hours on the ground before she was found and rushed to the hospital. âWe
blame what happened on a combination of prolonged squatting for hours
and the tight jeans she was wearing,â said Dr. Thomas Kimber who treated
the patient. Doctors were forced to cut the jeans off her calves because they had become so swollen.
âNormally
muscles can expand to compensate for swelling, but there was a
tourniquet effect, so the muscles had to expand inwards and compressed
blood vessels and nerves,â said Kimber.Â
She lost circulation in her lower legs and couldnât move her ankles or toes properly, according to the study.
âIf
she hadnât been able to come to the hospital, the compression could
have gone on longer and caused residual nerve damage,â said Kimber, who
is an associate professor at the Royal Adelaide Hospital in Australia. After four days on an IV, she could walk again and was released from the hospital.
So if you donât want to be a fashion victim, think twice before wiggling into a too-tight pair of skinny jeans.
More than a hundred years ago, a small pamphlet was published titled âThe Beale Papers,â which contained three cipher texts. The mysterious codes supposedly gave directions to a treasure buried in a secret location in Bedford County, Virginia in the 1820s.
According to the story in that pamphlet a man by the name of Thomas J. Beale and 30 other men came across treasure in a mine located to the north of Santa Fe.They transported the treasure to Bedford County, and buried it in a secure location. Beale then wrote three encoded letters: one giving the exact location of the treasure, a second giving its detailed description, and a third giving the names and contact information of the 30 partners. He placed them in an iron box and gave them to a trusted friend (he was instructed to only open the box if Beal and his friends were unable to return from a journey they had set out on) âthe local innkeeper named Robert Morriss âbefore disappearing, never to be seen again.
2 out of the 3 ciphers remain un-cracked to this day. Morriss tried to decode the ciphers but was unsuccessful so he passed it onto a friend (un-named) who spent years working on them. He was only able to decode one of them using The Declaration of Independence as a key. The decoded cipher read:
âThe first deposit consisted of ten hundred and fourteen pounds of gold, and thirty-eight hundred and twelve pounds of silver, deposited Nov. eighteen nineteen. The second was made Dec. eighteen twenty-one, and consisted of nineteen hundred and seven pounds of gold, and twelve hundred and eighty-eight of silver; also jewels, obtained in St. Louis in exchange for silver to save transportation, and valued at thirteen thousand dollars.â
2 of the ciphers remain un-cracked.They have been published as âThe Beal Papersâ so anyone who wants can try to decode them. While some will never be swayed in their resolve to find the treasure, some experts consider the Beale ciphers to be an elaborate hoax.
Choosing a career path is a lot more complicated when youâre chronically ill. You have to consider your symptoms and physical limitations when choosing a job or major as well as your passions and interests. Some jobs may be too physically demanding for you, and some courses of study may be too mentally draining. As much as you donât want your chronic illness to hold you back, you have to be realistic about what you can and canât do for the sake of your health.Â
And when you try to explain that to others, you have to listen to them tell you to âovercome your disablity.â
I honestly think that we would eliminate one of the major causes of ableism if we stopped basing peopleâs worth off how much revenue they generate.
This measure is worthless. Actually, it is worth less than nothing.
I used to be a programmer for a spammer. Being rather young, naive, and also desperate for some kind of income, I had no idea what âlead generationâ meant and had no idea that the fact that they didnât talk about how their nebulous product actually helped anyone was a huge red flag. I took the job, slowly learned the codebase, and it took me months to figure out what kind of practices this place actually employed.
I was asked to put in obnoxious popups, but hide the popups for traffic coming in from Google so that Google wouldnât cut off their sponsored traffic because the site violated their standards, a few months into my time there. That was when I began to realize the kind of place I was working at. Then I was asked to create a throwaway email account to test something, and I found out what actually happened to the poor people who put their information in for Free Insurance Quotes. They were inundated with spam. I found out the company had no site of its own, just hundreds of these âFree Insurance Quotesâ sites all with slightly different stock photos and slightly different forms and a âcomplaintsâ page that was very hard to find with an email that was never checked.
I was a Hardworking Taxpaying American when I worked at that job. I was, according to this capitalist logic, contributing to society and of much more value than a disabled person who supposedly is a leech on society.
I was making the world worse by working at that job. I would have been making the world better if I did absolutely nothing but stare at the wall all day rather than work that job.
Many jobs are like this. Anyone who works at an oil company is making the world worse. Anyone who works at a tobacco company is making the world worse. People in various abusive therapy industries are making the world worse. Iâm sure you can name plenty of other jobs in this category. The world would be better if those jobs did not exist.
Now, I am disabled. I am chronically ill, and I cannot even work a sedentary job because having to sit up for eight hours at a time would make me have to lie in bed for days.
I am making the world much better now by replacing the invasive grasses on my front lawn with strawberries that attract native bees, by sealing my house to increase its energy efficiency, by taking care of a flock of chickens and doing my best to ensure that they have a good happy life, by replenishing the soil in the yard with compost and chicken manure, than I was at that job. And I donât do very much – I canât.
Equating the arbitrary numbers one accumulates for oneself to oneâs actual value or contribution is a dangerous lie, and it is poisoning the planet.
This is so incredibly important. Thank you for this.
I worked at a horsetrack/casino and this also happened. I was making pretty decent money. I became a manager. Then the owner made bad financial decisions. I had to take on larger loads. I was finishing my senior year in college. I was working 12âs or more, sometimes until 7am. I stopped sleeping for more than 4 or 5 hours. I began to get sick. Colds, kidney infection, my body was shutting down.
Then I almost passed out at work. I got extremely dizzy. I felt like I couldnât breathe. I refused the expensive ambulance ride and had my sister come to get me. And in that time I told my boss I would be back once I was done. That night. Thatâs how ingrained in me it was to continue working. I didnât think that it was that serious.
I got to the ER and they found me in terrible shape. Iâd been on antibiotics for weeks due to a kidney infection that wouldnât quit. They gave me 3 bags of IV, and told me I was incredibly dehydrated, and my heart was jumping around enough for them to send me to a cardiologist. They put me through 4 tests: an ekg, a stress test, a 24 heart monitor, and a tilt table test. I was diagnosed with Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS)
I quit my job. My boss and even the owner were worried and very caring, after all nobody meant for this to happen, and they did care for me. Theyâd done similar things and this hadnât happened to them.
I was at the ripe age of 25 and suddenly I couldnât stand for more than a few minutes. My legs cramped like I had been running just trying to make a bowl of ramen on the stove. My heart was palpitating and leaping into my throat every day. My chest from my shoulders to my ribs tightened and made it difficult to breathe. My sternum felt like I was getting stepped on.
Finally I slept. It wasnât good sleep. The month after I quit my job I slept an average of 12-16 hours a day. I would fall asleep at the D&D table. I would be too tired to even sit at my computer to write. I was tired to the bone. I didnât know if I was ever going to get out of it. I was lucky that I only had two classes left to physically go to, and that I had built a solid relationship with my professor. I still made Aâs, and I still graduated.
Iâm 25 and I take a beta blocker. Iâm 25 and I canât stand for long periods. Iâm 25 and my chest still hurts every day. Iâm 25 and for 3 days a month Iâm laid up on my couch in tears. Im 25 and my body fights me every day. My heart, my blood pressure, my digestive system, all want to make a mockery of my living.
Because I wanted to work. Because I wanted to be successful. Because I wanted to do it all. Because I wanted to keep hearing âIâm proud of youâ from my family.
Iâm 25 and Iâm still struggling to find a job that I can do. And my family doesnât understand, and I donât know if theyâre ever going to understand why this happened.