Cherry was in town last weekend, and we were casually reminiscing about college days. We were talking about how it doesn't seem like that long ago, and how we really don't feel that much older. Then she dropped the bomb.
"You know," she said, "we're older now than the Buena Vista Moms were when we babysat for them." This was shocking.
"The Buena Vista Moms" collectively refers to a group of families that Cherry, our friend, Ava, and I all babysat for while in school. Cherry and Ava definitely had more interactions with them, but I had a family for whom I would "sit" about once a month.
Buena Vista was a super swanky neighborhood and every single house was a newly built McMansion. They were all fun, pretty and had come from California where their husbands had made their money.
They had fancy, fancy things. In fact, Cherry, on occasion, would go through one of the mom's closets and try on her designer gowns. And sometimes drink the fancy wine they left for her while wearing those gowns around the house (after the kids were asleep, of course). That's Cherry though. I mostly just looked at all their furniture and giant bathtubs.
To now be told that I am OLDER than they were?! This was shocking. There's no way. I don't own enough jewelry.
So I started thinking, what about my real babysitting families whom I used to see every week? Am I older than those moms were too? Again, the issue is not even that I think I'm old now or that they are old/were old then. It's that if I'm now the same age as they were, I have some things to do!
For example, one mom was way cooler than I am now. They had a giant "Fargo" poster hanging in their dining room (which was painted red), and a picture of Drew Barrymore when she was 13, smoking, in their guest bathroom. They had books in Russian. They knew about indie bands and had "Rolling Stone" delivered. They introduced me to "The Daily Show."
The other mom of the other family is a doctor. A doctor.
Okay, I'm not going to be a doctor, but she made her own yogurt and kombucha (which I didn't even know about until then- and still don't drink because it grosses me out). They had things from Whole Foods. They used cloth diapers, they had amazing homemade beer and they had chickens in their backyard. They got "Rolling Stone" delivered too.
I guess what I'm saying is that I need to start preparing my life to impress a 19 year old college girl. Wait, no that's not what I'm saying.
What I'm saying is that it gave me pause to think about my life now compared to the lives of those whom I found so fascinating, and wonder if I'm measuring up. Am I rich enough, cool enough, good enough?
I decided that I don't think I want to be a Buena Vista mom. They had their kids very young, some of them didn't go to college, only one of them worked, and at least one got a divorce.
Also, although I would like to be a little cooler and maybe I could be a little more earthy, I don't need a red dining room or chickens.
It may prompt some changes. At the very least, I'm subscribing to "Rolling Stone," since that seems to be a common theme of success. Ultimately though, I'm pretty happy with my life, and I'm not sad about where I've been or where I'm going. I'm just going to keep on going there.
Then, maybe one day I'll look up and some college sophomore will walk around my house and look at my stuff and think I'm so "old" and "cool". Maybe I'll think I'm old and cool then too. Maybe not, who knows. I just hope she doesn't try on my clothes.
Monday, February 24, 2014
Monday, February 17, 2014
Part 2: Desperate Measures
As the wedding approached, I knew something had to be done. There was no way I was going to walk down the aisle of my sister's wedding looking like I was wearing a bright red bib.
So, I decided that I would spray tan all of my body except the part that was sunburned. That way, when the burn faded into a beautiful tan- like all of my sunburns had never done- it would match the spray tan. It was fool proof.
I have spray tanned quite a bit. In college, I went to those booths that were like car washes for tanning. You put this goop on your finger and toenails, and then you put on a hairnet and goggles and stepped naked into this giant booth. You were then blasted, front and back, with tan.
Things have evolved since then, and it's actually just as reasonably priced to get someone to spray tan you with a little gun as it is to go to the booth. It's definitely a different level of intimacy to have a 22 year old spray your inner thigh while you wear paper panties, but it's a much better end result.
The only problem with my spray tan plan was that I was going to be in way South Texas for work, and was going to have to drive from there to Pippy's wedding. There was no time to go home to the proven "city" tanning to which I had become accustom. I was going to have to find a tanner in a small town basically two miles away from Mexico, at the last minute.
Fortunately, Yelp found me two options, and I went with the one that had pictures of body builders and pageant queens on their website, deducing that they were the most reputable. It was called something like "Coconut Dreams" and was owned by a husband and wife team. It was clean and they were nice, but I'm sure I was the palest person they'd ever tanned.
"So, what level of tan do you want?" the lady owner asked.
"Well, I usually do a 1 or a 2 at home," I said. "But, I've got this sunburn, and I'm trying to even everything out so that the sunburn doesn't stand out. My sister's getting married on Saturday and I want to look normal."
"Hmmm." She looked at the sunburn. "I think you could do a 2.5 to 3. It's Thursday, so by Saturday that sunburn's gonna be a nice tan, so we should probably go a little darker."
"Okay, if that's what you think. Just please don't spray the sunburn please."
Obviously you know what happened next. 2.5 to 3 was waaaaay too dark. I should have done a .5, and, of course, she sprayed the sunburn. I don't know why after I explicitly asked her not to, but it happened too fast for me to stop her. One minute she's doing my shoulders and the next, swoosh, sunburned bib is sprayed.
At first, it was okay. The tan hadn't fully set in yet, and when I looked in the mirror, I was all one color. I looked pretty good! She did know what she was doing after all!
On my way out the door she reminded me that I shouldn't shower for at least eight hours, I shouldn't wear a bra while I drove back, and above all, I should NOT use Dove soap. Apparently, that is the worst thing you can do. I promised I would follow all the rules and drove away.
Then, the bib started to itch. I had been putting on my fancy sunburn cream and aloe pretty much every thirty minutes for a week, and it was time to reapply. But I couldn't! If I touched my still-fresh tan, it would ruin everything. Maybe, just a liiiiiittle drop...no.
The moment I touched the aloe to the burn, the spray tan began to peel away along with some skin. I had finally reached the peeling stage, and it was coming in fierce. I was molting. As the tan/skin peeled away, it revealed baby pink skin that din't match my level 2.5 tanned rest of skin- at all.
Five hours later, when I showed up at Pippy's house, I was a wreck. I had been picking and "smoothing" (trying to pull the tan from the non-sunburned parts of me to the bib) the entire trip. Plus, the rest of the tan had set in, and as mentioned, was way too dark.
Pippy was horrified. I was obviously about to ruin her wedding. However, being the sweet caring person she is, she was trying to put on a brave face.
"Okay, it's okay," she said. "Maybe you should just take a shower."
"No! I can't! The lady at the tanning place said not to take a shower for at least eight hours."
"You need to take a shower," said Pippy.
"Okay."
I got in.
"You only have Dove soap!" I wailed. "The lady said not to use Dove soap!"
"You need to use the Dove soap," said Pippy. "Use a lot of it."
This should tell you something about how wonderful my sister is and how terrible I am. I stood in her shower two days before her wedding, and allowed her to hose me down with the shower head, while I cried and apologized. She just kept saying, "It's okay. Just use more soap."
Two showers later, I was a little less tan, but the bib was in full peel.
"Let's just keep putting that cream on it," Pippy said, "and maybe by Saturday, it will at least stop peeling."
Did I mention that Pippy is my little sister? That's how fabulous she is, just taking care of me as I slowly morphed into less of a tan mutant.
There was nothing left to do but buy a higher necked dress for the rehersal dinner and pray.
The day of the wedding, it actually was looking okay. It was far less peely, and the tan was faded quite a bit. About 20 minutes before we walked down the aisle, I decided to put some make up on it, just to see. And Pippy, being Pippy, even applied it for me.
"Wow," she said.
I turned to the mirror and...Oh my God!
I was one color. It was a wedding miracle. We used Cover Girl, and I'm telling you what, it was magic. It was absolutely flawless.
Hooray! We did it! Pippy got married, I matroned of honored and no one thought I was a radiation victim. It wasn't until much later in the night, when there had been much drinking and dancing that the Cover Girl began to wear off. And by then, we had made it through the pictures.
So, that's how I almost ruined my sister's wedding with a sunburn and a spray tan, and how she pulled me through it. And, how I gained a new, very deep respect, for Cover Girl products.
So, I decided that I would spray tan all of my body except the part that was sunburned. That way, when the burn faded into a beautiful tan- like all of my sunburns had never done- it would match the spray tan. It was fool proof.
I have spray tanned quite a bit. In college, I went to those booths that were like car washes for tanning. You put this goop on your finger and toenails, and then you put on a hairnet and goggles and stepped naked into this giant booth. You were then blasted, front and back, with tan.
Things have evolved since then, and it's actually just as reasonably priced to get someone to spray tan you with a little gun as it is to go to the booth. It's definitely a different level of intimacy to have a 22 year old spray your inner thigh while you wear paper panties, but it's a much better end result.
The only problem with my spray tan plan was that I was going to be in way South Texas for work, and was going to have to drive from there to Pippy's wedding. There was no time to go home to the proven "city" tanning to which I had become accustom. I was going to have to find a tanner in a small town basically two miles away from Mexico, at the last minute.
Fortunately, Yelp found me two options, and I went with the one that had pictures of body builders and pageant queens on their website, deducing that they were the most reputable. It was called something like "Coconut Dreams" and was owned by a husband and wife team. It was clean and they were nice, but I'm sure I was the palest person they'd ever tanned.
"So, what level of tan do you want?" the lady owner asked.
"Well, I usually do a 1 or a 2 at home," I said. "But, I've got this sunburn, and I'm trying to even everything out so that the sunburn doesn't stand out. My sister's getting married on Saturday and I want to look normal."
"Hmmm." She looked at the sunburn. "I think you could do a 2.5 to 3. It's Thursday, so by Saturday that sunburn's gonna be a nice tan, so we should probably go a little darker."
"Okay, if that's what you think. Just please don't spray the sunburn please."
Obviously you know what happened next. 2.5 to 3 was waaaaay too dark. I should have done a .5, and, of course, she sprayed the sunburn. I don't know why after I explicitly asked her not to, but it happened too fast for me to stop her. One minute she's doing my shoulders and the next, swoosh, sunburned bib is sprayed.
At first, it was okay. The tan hadn't fully set in yet, and when I looked in the mirror, I was all one color. I looked pretty good! She did know what she was doing after all!
On my way out the door she reminded me that I shouldn't shower for at least eight hours, I shouldn't wear a bra while I drove back, and above all, I should NOT use Dove soap. Apparently, that is the worst thing you can do. I promised I would follow all the rules and drove away.
Then, the bib started to itch. I had been putting on my fancy sunburn cream and aloe pretty much every thirty minutes for a week, and it was time to reapply. But I couldn't! If I touched my still-fresh tan, it would ruin everything. Maybe, just a liiiiiittle drop...no.
The moment I touched the aloe to the burn, the spray tan began to peel away along with some skin. I had finally reached the peeling stage, and it was coming in fierce. I was molting. As the tan/skin peeled away, it revealed baby pink skin that din't match my level 2.5 tanned rest of skin- at all.
Five hours later, when I showed up at Pippy's house, I was a wreck. I had been picking and "smoothing" (trying to pull the tan from the non-sunburned parts of me to the bib) the entire trip. Plus, the rest of the tan had set in, and as mentioned, was way too dark.
Pippy was horrified. I was obviously about to ruin her wedding. However, being the sweet caring person she is, she was trying to put on a brave face.
"Okay, it's okay," she said. "Maybe you should just take a shower."
"No! I can't! The lady at the tanning place said not to take a shower for at least eight hours."
"You need to take a shower," said Pippy.
"Okay."
I got in.
"You only have Dove soap!" I wailed. "The lady said not to use Dove soap!"
"You need to use the Dove soap," said Pippy. "Use a lot of it."
This should tell you something about how wonderful my sister is and how terrible I am. I stood in her shower two days before her wedding, and allowed her to hose me down with the shower head, while I cried and apologized. She just kept saying, "It's okay. Just use more soap."
Two showers later, I was a little less tan, but the bib was in full peel.
"Let's just keep putting that cream on it," Pippy said, "and maybe by Saturday, it will at least stop peeling."
Did I mention that Pippy is my little sister? That's how fabulous she is, just taking care of me as I slowly morphed into less of a tan mutant.
There was nothing left to do but buy a higher necked dress for the rehersal dinner and pray.
The day of the wedding, it actually was looking okay. It was far less peely, and the tan was faded quite a bit. About 20 minutes before we walked down the aisle, I decided to put some make up on it, just to see. And Pippy, being Pippy, even applied it for me.
"Wow," she said.
I turned to the mirror and...Oh my God!
I was one color. It was a wedding miracle. We used Cover Girl, and I'm telling you what, it was magic. It was absolutely flawless.
Hooray! We did it! Pippy got married, I matroned of honored and no one thought I was a radiation victim. It wasn't until much later in the night, when there had been much drinking and dancing that the Cover Girl began to wear off. And by then, we had made it through the pictures.
So, that's how I almost ruined my sister's wedding with a sunburn and a spray tan, and how she pulled me through it. And, how I gained a new, very deep respect, for Cover Girl products.
Monday, February 10, 2014
Part I: Desperate Times
My skin is the color of nothing. I'm so pale, I'm pretty much transparent. I'm always surprised when nurses taking blood have a hard time finding a vein. They're right there. Right. There. I see them always.
Being a pale princess means that the sun and I have a contemptuous relationship. Basically, I really like the sun, and the sun hates me.
My sister, Pippy (again, not her real name, but bizarrely the name she has chosen for herself for blogging purposes), can think about the sun and become gorgeously tan. So for years, I thought I was just doing it wrong. I just hadn't found the right ratio of sunscreen : sun exposure.
I tried SPF 15, 8, 2. I tried laying out for short periods throughout the day, long stretches, tanning beds. It didn't matter, the result was always the same. Translucent skin became bubbling, raw red skin that turned into a peel and then, unfairly, right back to snow white.
The worst of these experiments was in college on spring break in Mexico. I hadn't prepared my "tan" for the trip, and showed up as snowy as ever. So, I came up with the genius idea of just not wearing sunscreen for an entire day to build up a "base."
The result was that my entire body, minus where my bathing suit sat, was the color of a fire engine- seriously that was the color. Imagine a fire engine and that's what I looked like. When I took off my bathing suit, I looked like a negative photo of someone wearing a bikini. I was hit on by sooo many cute boys. Oh wait no, I sat in the room and rubbed aloe on myself and cried.
Now that I'm older, I've learned my lesson. I've accepted my pale, pale skin. I am Sun Challenged, and must never leave home without a layer of protection (at least SPF 30, but 50 if the beach is involved). And I'm pretty diligent. That's why I was so pissed when I got one of the worst sunburns of my life..in March...when I was fully clothed...the week before Pippy's wedding
Brad and I went to an outdoor concert with some friends. It was fabulous, we saw a lot of minor celebrities and some rad bands. We ate free food, drank ourselves silly and had a blast. It was even better because it was like 70 degrees and cloudy all day, so we weren't hot. And this was the rookie mistake that I should have known to avoid. Everyone knows, but especially the Sun Challenged know, that you can get just as sunburned when it's cloudy as when the sun is out. Stupidly, I didn't even think about sunscreen. I just drank beer and sang.
Also important to note, I was wearing shorts and a white, scoop neck t-shirt. Well, the patch of my chest that was not fully covered, the scoop part if you will, was eaten alive.
I knew it was going to be a really bad sunburn when we got in the car. I put my seatbelt on, shrieked in pain and threw it off.
It was bad. It was so sunburned it was purple. When I went to work on Monday, people made little surprised yelps and then backed away laughing nervously. I didn't know what I was going to do. Pippy's wedding was the following Saturday and I was the matron of honor. I looked like a burn victim, which I kind of was.
I bought special, very expensive, cream that I kept in the refrigerator and rubbed on my charred chest all day. I prayed. Nothing helped.
As the week went on, not only did it not get better (and kept hurting), but it wasn't peeling. That meant I wasn't even half way to better and I would surely be a hideous gargoyle for the wedding. And really, how I looked at Pippy's wedding was what everyone cared about.
I was getting desperate.
Next week: Part II, Desperate Measures
Being a pale princess means that the sun and I have a contemptuous relationship. Basically, I really like the sun, and the sun hates me.
My sister, Pippy (again, not her real name, but bizarrely the name she has chosen for herself for blogging purposes), can think about the sun and become gorgeously tan. So for years, I thought I was just doing it wrong. I just hadn't found the right ratio of sunscreen : sun exposure.
I tried SPF 15, 8, 2. I tried laying out for short periods throughout the day, long stretches, tanning beds. It didn't matter, the result was always the same. Translucent skin became bubbling, raw red skin that turned into a peel and then, unfairly, right back to snow white.
The worst of these experiments was in college on spring break in Mexico. I hadn't prepared my "tan" for the trip, and showed up as snowy as ever. So, I came up with the genius idea of just not wearing sunscreen for an entire day to build up a "base."
The result was that my entire body, minus where my bathing suit sat, was the color of a fire engine- seriously that was the color. Imagine a fire engine and that's what I looked like. When I took off my bathing suit, I looked like a negative photo of someone wearing a bikini. I was hit on by sooo many cute boys. Oh wait no, I sat in the room and rubbed aloe on myself and cried.
Now that I'm older, I've learned my lesson. I've accepted my pale, pale skin. I am Sun Challenged, and must never leave home without a layer of protection (at least SPF 30, but 50 if the beach is involved). And I'm pretty diligent. That's why I was so pissed when I got one of the worst sunburns of my life..in March...when I was fully clothed...the week before Pippy's wedding
Brad and I went to an outdoor concert with some friends. It was fabulous, we saw a lot of minor celebrities and some rad bands. We ate free food, drank ourselves silly and had a blast. It was even better because it was like 70 degrees and cloudy all day, so we weren't hot. And this was the rookie mistake that I should have known to avoid. Everyone knows, but especially the Sun Challenged know, that you can get just as sunburned when it's cloudy as when the sun is out. Stupidly, I didn't even think about sunscreen. I just drank beer and sang.
Also important to note, I was wearing shorts and a white, scoop neck t-shirt. Well, the patch of my chest that was not fully covered, the scoop part if you will, was eaten alive.
I knew it was going to be a really bad sunburn when we got in the car. I put my seatbelt on, shrieked in pain and threw it off.
It was bad. It was so sunburned it was purple. When I went to work on Monday, people made little surprised yelps and then backed away laughing nervously. I didn't know what I was going to do. Pippy's wedding was the following Saturday and I was the matron of honor. I looked like a burn victim, which I kind of was.
I bought special, very expensive, cream that I kept in the refrigerator and rubbed on my charred chest all day. I prayed. Nothing helped.
As the week went on, not only did it not get better (and kept hurting), but it wasn't peeling. That meant I wasn't even half way to better and I would surely be a hideous gargoyle for the wedding. And really, how I looked at Pippy's wedding was what everyone cared about.
I was getting desperate.
Next week: Part II, Desperate Measures
Sunday, February 2, 2014
This blog just might save your life
Last week I started a new job, and I now work from home. Hooray! I'm super excited and it's a great gig; however, it has opened up a new world of neurotic fears.
There are the usual "Will I like this job?" "Will my boss like me?" "Will I be good at this?" type of fears. Then there is the less usual kind.
The main fear, and this just dawned on me a few days ago and I can't believe I've never been more afraid of this, is choking.
As I said, I've never been afraid of choking, and I have never choked, but now that I'm home alone all day, it has become a very real concern.
My mom tells a story about how she was by herself at her office (probably in the 80's, who knows, a long time ago). She "popped" an aspirin in her mouth without water, and she started choking. She was the only one there, obviously, so she "threw herself on to the back of a chair" and the aspirin came out. She self-Heimliched.
I don't know why, but she's told this story kind of a lot over the years, and it always terrifies me. It's scary to think that my mom was almost killed by aspirin, but what's the most scary is, that until very recently, I didn't think I could do it. Actually, I still don't know that I could "throw myself" on a chair. I think I would probably be so freaked out I'd just run around, waving my arms and bumping into walls until I passed out. It would be a terrible way to die, and I don't want to risk it.
My first solution to not choking was to only eat soft food and chew it very well, if Brad wasn't home. This worked for like an hour until I really wanted an orange. My second solution was that I would just run next door to our neighbor (who is a stay-at-home mom) and have her Heimlich me.
This could potentially work but a). she is a tiny little thing and who knows if she could even do it b). I look terrible now that I work from home, so do I really want her to see me choking and without a bra? c). what if she's not home? Then I've wasted precious energy running over there. The clock is ticking!!
So, this week, I decided I would have to get over my fear of self-Heimliching. I found some things in my house that I could "throw myself" against that don't have sharp edges. The best spot is a counter we have that is about stomach height and has rounded edges. This would be my Heimlich counter. I even practiced in slow motion (no throwing of myself because you should never really Heimlich yourself or anyone else unless they are really choking, according to the interwebs).
I also looked up several YouTube videos. If you search "What to do if you're choking and you're alone" you do get some good stuff. One of my favorite things about the videos is that a lot of them say, at least in the comments, something like "watching this video could just save your life," and I believe them.
There is even an alternative move you can do which involves getting in the push-up position and throwing your hands up so that you basically fall on your stomach. It was taught by an ex-boxer turned paramedic, so I think it's legit. His right hand was fused from boxing so when he did his push-up he made a fist. He told us this. The fist is optional he said.
There is a comment saying that a person tried this and it worked, but he broke his jaw and lost some teeth. So, I don't know that this will be my go-to method, but it's good to have options.
This lead to a rabbit hole of YouTube video watching in which I refreshed on how to Heimlich other adults, children, babies and even dogs (also led to a new fear of "Oh my God, what if my dog chokes?"). For fun, I also watched some CPR videos, even though I know how to do that. It's good to keep current.
I do feel better and more prepared after my research. I still don't ever want to find out if I'll have the courage to throw myself against something, so I will continue to chew slowly and not pop things into my mouth. At least now, though, I have options and a pre-prepared counter, even though the lady in the YouTube video highly recommends a chair. I stand by my counter decision.
1. How to Heimlich yourself: http://youtu.be/FEr9jjZ6fi8
2. Alternative push-up way (fist optional): http://youtu.be/Iz8M0UTkvSU
3. How to Heimlich someone else (especially if they choke on a grape): http://youtu.be/tEIiEAn7b-U
4. How to save your choking dog (because apparently they can choke on everything, including springs): http://youtu.be/eO3X-hoqfB0
There are the usual "Will I like this job?" "Will my boss like me?" "Will I be good at this?" type of fears. Then there is the less usual kind.
The main fear, and this just dawned on me a few days ago and I can't believe I've never been more afraid of this, is choking.
As I said, I've never been afraid of choking, and I have never choked, but now that I'm home alone all day, it has become a very real concern.
My mom tells a story about how she was by herself at her office (probably in the 80's, who knows, a long time ago). She "popped" an aspirin in her mouth without water, and she started choking. She was the only one there, obviously, so she "threw herself on to the back of a chair" and the aspirin came out. She self-Heimliched.
I don't know why, but she's told this story kind of a lot over the years, and it always terrifies me. It's scary to think that my mom was almost killed by aspirin, but what's the most scary is, that until very recently, I didn't think I could do it. Actually, I still don't know that I could "throw myself" on a chair. I think I would probably be so freaked out I'd just run around, waving my arms and bumping into walls until I passed out. It would be a terrible way to die, and I don't want to risk it.
My first solution to not choking was to only eat soft food and chew it very well, if Brad wasn't home. This worked for like an hour until I really wanted an orange. My second solution was that I would just run next door to our neighbor (who is a stay-at-home mom) and have her Heimlich me.
This could potentially work but a). she is a tiny little thing and who knows if she could even do it b). I look terrible now that I work from home, so do I really want her to see me choking and without a bra? c). what if she's not home? Then I've wasted precious energy running over there. The clock is ticking!!
So, this week, I decided I would have to get over my fear of self-Heimliching. I found some things in my house that I could "throw myself" against that don't have sharp edges. The best spot is a counter we have that is about stomach height and has rounded edges. This would be my Heimlich counter. I even practiced in slow motion (no throwing of myself because you should never really Heimlich yourself or anyone else unless they are really choking, according to the interwebs).
I also looked up several YouTube videos. If you search "What to do if you're choking and you're alone" you do get some good stuff. One of my favorite things about the videos is that a lot of them say, at least in the comments, something like "watching this video could just save your life," and I believe them.
There is even an alternative move you can do which involves getting in the push-up position and throwing your hands up so that you basically fall on your stomach. It was taught by an ex-boxer turned paramedic, so I think it's legit. His right hand was fused from boxing so when he did his push-up he made a fist. He told us this. The fist is optional he said.
There is a comment saying that a person tried this and it worked, but he broke his jaw and lost some teeth. So, I don't know that this will be my go-to method, but it's good to have options.
This lead to a rabbit hole of YouTube video watching in which I refreshed on how to Heimlich other adults, children, babies and even dogs (also led to a new fear of "Oh my God, what if my dog chokes?"). For fun, I also watched some CPR videos, even though I know how to do that. It's good to keep current.
I do feel better and more prepared after my research. I still don't ever want to find out if I'll have the courage to throw myself against something, so I will continue to chew slowly and not pop things into my mouth. At least now, though, I have options and a pre-prepared counter, even though the lady in the YouTube video highly recommends a chair. I stand by my counter decision.
YouTube Links (they just might save your life!):
1. How to Heimlich yourself: http://youtu.be/FEr9jjZ6fi8
2. Alternative push-up way (fist optional): http://youtu.be/Iz8M0UTkvSU
3. How to Heimlich someone else (especially if they choke on a grape): http://youtu.be/tEIiEAn7b-U
4. How to save your choking dog (because apparently they can choke on everything, including springs): http://youtu.be/eO3X-hoqfB0
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