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can anyone rewrite this article? Grammar and Spelling must be correct. YOU CAN MAKE IT SHORTER?

Fri, 25 Mar 2011 22:22:00 +0000

Question by flovers100: can anyone rewrite this article? Grammar and Spelling must be correct. YOU CAN MAKE IT SHORTER?
The effectiveness of hair loss products can differ with each individual. Men and women should use hair products made specifically for them. What works for one person may not work the same for another person. The best thing to do in selecting the product that is best suited is to speak to your doctor. Your doctor may suggest a certain diet for you to follow or recommend a change in your lifestyle in order to slow down the process of your hair loss. This would be better for you instead of medication or surgical treatment. Medication and surgical treatment can be expensive and also there is a risk associated with them. It is best to know what is causing your hair loss. Sometimes, losing your hair can be a result of an allergic reaction or any medications that you may be taking. If you know what is causing your hair loss problem, you can solve it before it gets worse. When you choose any type of treatment, you should be aware of any types of side effects associated with it. There are a lot of products on the market that claim to treat hair loss. It is important that you do some research on this by reading articles and speaking to people who have had experiences with the products. Surgery should never be considered as a first choice mainly because it is risky and very expensive. Use your time and money wisely to find the best hair loss treatment that fits your specific needs. It is a good idea to try simple things first, like specialty shampoos or supplements before trying more extreme methods such as surgery.

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Answer by g_steed
Use search to access an on-line posting that details article writing. Try ‘Owl’ at Purdue U.

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What Do You All Think ’bout Beyonce’s Maple Syrup Diet? Check Out This Article.?

Tue, 24 Nov 2009 01:30:21 +0000

Maple Syrup Diet
Lose over a stone in just a fortnight! That’s the promise of the Maple Syrup Diet followed by pop star Beyonce. But is this diet really the best way to shift those excess pounds and will it work for everyone? WLR’s dietitian Juliette Kellow investigates…
Maple Syrup Diet
By WLR Dietitian
Juliette Kellow BSc RD
This month, the papers have been full of reports about a new diet made famous by pop star Beyonce Knowles.
The ex-Destiny’s Child singer spilled the beans on how she slimmed down and lost 1½ stone in just two weeks for her new movie, Dreamgirls, due for release next January. Beyonce’s diet apparently consisted of eating nothing for a fortnight, instead surviving on detox drinks consisting of a syrup mixed with lemon juice, water and cayenne pepper!
The syrup – Madal Bal Natural Tree Syrup – is made from the sap of maple and palm trees. Also known as The Lemon Detox, the diet was introduced more than 30 years ago by naturopath Stanley Burroughs. Many of the claimed benefits include weight loss, cleansing the body of toxins, greater resistance to illness, improved concentration, increased energy, clearer skin and eyes, shinier hair and stronger nails.
The detox drink itself is made by mixing 2 tablespoons of the Natural Tree Syrup (which they say is 20ml) with 2 tablespoons of freshly squeezed lemon juice, a pinch of cayenne pepper or ginger and half a pint of hot or cold water. It’s recommended you drink as much as you like, but ideally six to nine glasses daily.
There are also four detox plans to choose from:
The Full Detox – this involves surviving solely on the detox drink for 10 days, although it’s recommended that beginners follow it for just 5–7 days. It can also be extended for up to 14 days, but should only be done so with the consent of a health professional.
Relaxed Version – this involves substituting breakfast, dinner or both these meals with 2–3 glasses of the detox drink. But you should still avoid sweets, processed foods, red meat, fried food, white bread, dairy products, coffee and booze for the remaining meals.
The Once a Week version – as the name suggests, you skip food and have the detox drinks on one day each week.
The Master Plan – a hardcore plan that involves a twice-yearly multi-day detox combined with detoxing once a week!
WLR says:
Pop star Beyonce may have a figure that many of us envy, but it seems she believes in the ‘no pain, no gain’ mantra to get it that way. In fact, this is one of the most extreme diets ever and makes Carol Vorderman’s detox plans look like a positive food fest.
This diet is potentially dangerous. Effectively, it involves drinking nothing but sugared water for days on end. Of course you will lose weight, but that’s purely the result of limiting calories excessively.
A tablespoon (which they say is 10ml) of Natural Tree Syrup contains just 26 calories. That means if you have six drinks a day (each containing the recommended 2 tablespoons of syrup), your daily intake will be just 312 calories. Even nine drinks only provide 468 calories.
The effects of crash diet
This low calorie diet plan will leave you hungry, irritable and lacking in energy as your blood sugar levels go on a roller coaster ride of highs and lows. And chances are, the pounds will go straight back on as soon as you ditch the diet.
But it’s not just the extremely low calorie content that’s worrying. These drinks are devoid of protein, fibre, vitamins, minerals and all the naturally occurring plant chemicals (Phytochemicals) we know help to keep us fit and healthy. After just a few days, it’s likely you’ll become constipated due to the complete lack of fibre in the diet. And if you follow this diet for any length of time, you could end up with low nutrient levels, including iron, calcium, zinc and vitamin C. Meanwhile, a combination of sugar and acid (from the lemon juice) is also a disaster for teeth and so may increase the risk of dental decay.
As for the idea that the body needs to detox, this is simply nonsense. Our bodies are cleverly designed to get rid of waste products and toxins – that’s one of the main functions of our liver and kidneys.
Worryingly though, these facts aren’t stopping people from buying this product. Even though it costs a massive £39.99 for a litre (enough for 5 to 7 days), the company that distribute Madal Bal Natural Tree Syrup say they’ve gone from selling 500 tins a year to around 2,000 a month!
Crash Diet Versus Healthy Eating
Bottom line: this is a crash diet – and one of the worst! Put it to the back of your mind and concentrate on getting a bootylicious body by eating a healthy diet that will shift those pounds slowly – but keep them off for good.

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What Are Your Thoughts On The Following Article?

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 01:35:24 +0000

COMFORT FOR THE DEPRESSED
“All creation keeps on groaning together and being in pain together until now.” (Romans 8:22) Human suffering was great when that was written over 1,900 years ago. Many were depressed. Therefore, Christians were urged: “Speak consolingly to the depressed souls.”—1 Thessalonians 5:14.
Today, human distress is even greater, and more people than ever are depressed. But should that surprise us? Not really, for the Bible identifies these as “the last days” and calls them “critical times hard to deal with.” (2 Timothy 3:1-5) Jesus Christ foretold that during the last days, there would be “fearful sights.”—Luke 21:7-11; Matthew 24:3-14.
When people experience prolonged anxiety, fear, grief, or other such negative emotions, they often become depressed. The cause of depression or extreme sadness may be the death of a loved one, a divorce, the loss of a job, or an unrelenting sickness. People also become depressed when they develop a sense of worthlessness, when they feel they are a failure and have let everyone down. Anyone may be devastated by a stressful situation, but when a person develops a sense of hopelessness and is unable to see any way out of a bad situation, severe depression may result.
People in ancient times experienced similar feelings. Job suffered sickness and personal misfortune. He felt that God had abandoned him, so he expressed a loathing toward life. (Job 10:1; 29:2, 4, 5) Jacob was depressed over the apparent death of his son, refusing to be comforted and wishing to die. (Genesis 37:33-35) Feeling guilt over serious error, King David lamented: “All day long I have walked about sad. I have grown numb.”—Psalm 38:6, 8; 2 Corinthians 7:5, 6.
Today, many have become depressed because of overtaxing themselves, trying to follow a daily routine that is beyond their mental, emotional, and physical resources. Apparently stress, coupled with negative thoughts and emotions, can affect the body and contribute to a chemical imbalance in the brain, thus producing depression.—Compare Proverbs 14:30.
Help That They Need
Epaphroditus, a first-century Christian from Philippi, became “depressed because [his friends] heard he had fallen sick.” Epaphroditus, who had become sick after being sent to Rome by his friends with provisions for the apostle Paul, perhaps felt he had let his friends down and that they considered him a failure. (Philippians 2:25-27; 4:18) How did the apostle Paul help?
He sent Epaphroditus home with a letter to the Philippian friends that said: “Give [Epaphroditus] the customary welcome in the Lord with all joy; and keep holding men of that sort dear.” (Philippians 2:28-30) The fact that Paul spoke so highly of him and that the Philippians welcomed him with warmth and affection, surely must have consoled Epaphroditus and helped toward relieving his depression.
Without a doubt, the Bible’s advice to “speak consolingly to the depressed souls” is the very best. “You need to know that others care about you as a person,” said a woman who suffered from depression. “You need to hear someone say, ‘I understand; you’ll be all right.’”
The person who is depressed often needs to take the initiative by seeking out an empathetic person in whom to confide. This one should be a good listener and be very patient. He or she should avoid lecturing the depressed one or making judgmental statements, such as, ‘You shouldn’t feel like that’ or, ‘That’s the wrong attitude.’ The depressed person’s emotions are fragile, and such critical comments will only make him feel worse about himself.
One who is depressed may feel worthless. (Jonah 4:3) Yet, a person should remember that what really counts is how God values one. Men held Jesus Christ “as of no account,” but this did not change his real worth to God. (Isaiah 53:3) Be assured, just as God loves his dear Son, he loves you too.—John 3:16.
Jesus pitied those in distress and tried to help them see their individual worth. (Matthew 9:36; 11:28-30; 14:14) He explained that God values even small, insignificant sparrows. “Not one of them goes forgotten before God,” he said. How much more does he value humans who try to do his will! Of these Jesus said: “Even the hairs of your heads are all numbered.”—Luke 12:6, 7.
True, it may be hard for a person who is severely depressed, who is overwhelmed with his weaknesses and shortcomings, to believe that God so highly values him. He may feel certain that he is unworthy of God’s love and care. “Our hearts may condemn us,” God’s Word acknowledges. But is that the determining factor? No it is not. God realizes that sinful humans may think negatively and even condemn themselves. So his Word comforts them: “God is greater than our hearts and knows all things.”—1 John 3:19, 20.
Yes, our loving heavenly Father sees more than our sins and mistakes. He knows of extenuating circumstances, our whole life course, our motives and intentions. He knows that we inh

fasting to lose weight

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What You Think Of This Prince Article?

Sun, 04 Oct 2009 13:31:47 +0000

John Nelson turns sixty-nine today, and all the semiretired piano man wants for his birthday is to shoot some pool with his firstborn son. “He’s real handy with a cue,” says Prince, laughing, as he threads his old white T-bird through his old black neighborhood toward his old man’s house. “He’s so cool. The old man knows what time it is.” Hard time is how life has traditionally been clocked in North Minneapolis; this is the place ‘Time’ forgot twelve years ago when the magazine’s cover trumpeted “The Good Life in Minnesota,” alongside a picture of Governor Wendell Anderson holding up a walleye. Though tame and middle-class by Watts and Roxbury standards, the North Side offers some of the few mean streets in town. The old sights bring out more Babbitt than Badass is Prince as he leads a leisurely tour down the main streets of his inner-city Gopher Prairie. He cruises slowly, respectfully: stopping completely at red lights, flicking on his turn signal even when no one’s at an intersection. Gone is the wary Kung Fu Grasshopper voice with which Prince whispers when meeting strangers or accepting Academy Awards. Cruising peacefully with the window down, he’s proof in a paisley jump suit that you can always go home again, especially if you never really left town. Tooling through the neighborhood, Prince speaks matter-of-factly of why he toyed with early interviewers about his father and mother, their divorce and his adolescent wanderings between the homes of his parents, friends and relatives. “I used to tease a lot of journalists early on,” he says, “because I wanted them to concentrate on the music and not so much on me coming from a broken home. I really didn’t think that was important. What was important was what came out of my system that particular day. I don’t live in the past. I don’t play my old records for that reason. I make a statement, then move on to the next.” The early facts, for the neo-Freudians: John Nelson, leader of the Prince Rogers jazz trio, knew Mattie Shaw from North Side community dances. A singer sixteen years John’s junior, Mattie bore traces of Billie Holiday in her pipes and more than a trace of Indian and Caucasian in her blood. She joined the Prince Rogers trio, sang for a few years around town, married John Nelson and dropped out of the group. She nicknamed her husband after the band; the son who came in 1958 got the nickname on his birth certificate. At home and on the street, the kid was “Skipper.” Mattie and John broke up ten years later, and Prince began his domestic shuttle. “That’s where my mom lives,” he says nonchalantly, nodding toward a neatly trimmed house and lawn. “My parents live very close by each other, but they don’t talk. My mom’s the wild side of me; she’s like that all the time. My dad’s real serene; it takes the music to get him going. My father and me, we’re one and the same.” A wry laugh. “He’s a little sick, just like I am.” “That was the church I went to growing up,” says Prince. “I wonder who’s getting married.” A fat little kid waves, and Prince waves back. “Just all kinds of things here,” he goes on, turning right. “There was a school right there, John Hay. That’s where I went to elementary school,” he says, pointing out a field of black tar sprouting a handful of bent metal basketball rims. “And that’s where my cousin lives. I used to play there every day when I was twelve, on these streets, football up and down this block. That’s his father out there on the lawn.” These lawns are where Prince the adolescent would also amuse his friends with expert Prince is fiddling with the tape deck inside the T-Bird. On low volume comes his unreleased “Old Friends 4 Sale,” an arrow-to-the-heart rock ballad about trust and loss. Unlike “Positively 4th Street” — which Bob Dylan reputedly named after a nearby Minneapolis block — the lyrics are sad, not bitter. “I don’t know too much about Dylan,” says Prince, “but I respect him a lot. ‘All Along the Watchtower’ is my favorite of his. I heard it first from Jimi Hendrix.” He turns onto Plymouth, the North Side’s main strip. When Martin Luther King got shot, it was Plymouth Avenue that burned. “We used to go to that McDonald’s there,” he says. “I didn’t have any money, so I’d just stand outside there and smell stuff. Poverty makes people angry, brings out their worst side. I was very bitter when I was young. I was insecure and I’d attack anybody. I couldn’t keep a girlfriend for two weeks. We’d argue about anything.” Across the street from McDonald’s, Prince spies a smaller landmark. He points to a vacant corner phone booth and remembers a teenage fight with a strict and unforgiving father. “That’s where I called my dad and begged him to take me back after he kicked me out,” he begins softly. “He said no, so I called my sister and asked her to ask him. So she did, and afterward told me that all I had to do was call him back, tell him I was sorry, and he’s take me back. So I did, and he still said no. I sat crying at that phone booth for two hours. That’s the last time I cried.In the years between that phone-booth breakdown and today’s pool game came forgiveness. Says Prince, “Once I made it, got my first record contract, got my name on a piece of paper and a little money in my pocket, I was able to forgive. Once I was eating every day, I became a much nicer person.” But it took many more years for the son to understand what a jazzman father needed to survive. Prince figured it out when he moved into his purple house. “I can be upstairs at the piano, and Rande [his cook] can come in,” he says. “Her footsteps will be in a different time, and it’s real weird when you hear something that’s a totally different rhythm than what you’re playing. A lot of times that’s mistaken for conceit or not having a heart. But it’s not. And my dad’s the same way, and that’s why it was hard for him to live with anybody. I didn’t realize that until recently. When he was working or thinking, he had a private pulse going constantly inside him. I don’t know, your bloodstream beats differently.” Prince pulls the T-Bird into an alley behind a street of neat frame houses, stops behind a wooden one-car garage and rolls down the window. Relaxing against a tree is a man who looks like Cab Calloway. Dressed in a crisp white suit, collar and tie, a trim and smiling John Nelson adjusts his best cuff links and waves. “Happy birthday,” says the son. “Thanks,” says the father, laughing. Nelson says he’s not even allowing himself a piece of cake on his birthday. “No, not this year,” he says with a shake of the head. Pointing at his son, Nelson continues, “I’m trying to take off ten pounds I put on while visiting him in Los Angeles. He eats like I want to eat, but exercises, which I certainly don’t.” Father then asks son if maybe he should drive himself to the pool game so he won’t have to be hauled all the way back afterward. Prince says okay, and Nelson, chuckling, says to the stranger, “Hey, let me show you what I got for my birthday two years ago.” He goes over to the garage and gives a tug on the door handle. is a An “That. “We used parts of my past and present to make the story pop more, but it was a story. My dad wouldn’t have nothing to do with guns. He never swore, still doesn’t, and never drinks.” Prince looks in his rearview mirror at the car tailing him. “He don’t look sixty-nine, do he? He’s so cool. He’s got girlfriends, lots of ‘em.” Prince drives alongside two black kids walking their bikes. “Hey, Prince,” says one casually. “Hey,” says the driver with a nod, “how you doing?” Passing by old neighbors watering their lawns and shooting hoops, the North Side’s favorite son talks about his hometown. “I wouldn’t move, just cuz I like it here so much. I can go out and not get jumped on. It feels good not to be hassled when I dance, which I do a lot. It’s not a think of everybody saying, ‘Whoa, who’s out with who here?’ while photographers flash their bulbs in your face.” Nearing the turnoff that leads from Minneapolis to suburban Eden Prairie, Prince flips in another tape and peeks in the rearview mirror. John Nelson is still right behind. “It’s real hard for my father to show emotion,” says Prince, heading onto the highway. “He never says, ‘I love you,’ and when we hug or something, we bang our heads together like in some Charlie Chaplin movie. But a while ago, he was telling me how I always had to be careful. My father told me, ‘If anything happens to you, I’m gone.’ All I thought at first was that it was a real nice thing to say. But then I thought about it for a while and realized something. That was my father’s way of saying ‘I love you.’” A few minutes later, Prince and his father pull in front of the Warehouse, a concrete barn in an Eden Prairie industrial park. Inside, the Family, a rock-funk band that Prince has been working with, is pounding out new songs and dance routines. The group is as tight as ace drummer Jellybean Johnson’s pants. At the end of one hot number, Family members fall on their backs, twitching like fried eggs. Prince and his father enter to hellos from the still-gyrating band. Prince goes over to a pool table by the soundboard, racks the balls and shimmies to the beat of the Family’s next song. Taking everything in, John Nelson gives a professional nod to the band, his son’s rack job and his own just-chalked cue. He hitches his shoulders, takes aim and breaks like Minnesota Fats. A few minutes later, the band is still playing and the father is still shooting. Prince, son to this father and father to this band, is smiling. THE NIGHT BEFORE, in the Warehouse, Prince is about to break his three-year public silence. Wearing a jump suit, powder-blue boots and a little crucifix on a chain, he dances with the Family for a little while, plays guitar for a minute, sings lead for a second, then noodles four-handed keyboard with Susannah Melvoin, Wendy’s identical-twin sister. Seeing me at the door, Prince comes over. “Hi,” he whispers, offering a hand, “want something to eat or drink?” On the table in front of the band are piles of fruit and a couple bags of Doritos. Six different kinds of tea sit on a shelf by the wall. No drugs, no booze, no coffee. Prince plays another lick or two and watches for a few more minutes, then waves goodbye to the band and heads for his car outside the concrete barn. “I’m not used to this,” mumbles Prince, staring straight ahead through the windshield of his parked car. “I really thought I’d never do interviews again.” we drive for twenty minutes, talking about Minnesota’s skies, air and cops. Gradually, his voice comes up, bringing with it inflections, hand gestures and laughs. faced icons of Yahweh or Lucifer. “We’re here,” Monroe to talk to. Indeed, if a real-estate agent led a tour through Prince’s house, one would guess that the resident was, at most, a hip suburban surgeon who likes deep-pile carpeting. “Hi,” says Rande, from the kitchen, “you got a couple of messages.” Prince thanks her and offers up some homemade chocolate-chip cookies. He takes a drink from a water cooler emblazoned with a Minnesota North Stars sticker and continues the.”This place,” he says, “is not a prison. And the only things it’s a shrine to are Jesus, love and peace.” Off the kitchen is a living room that holds nothing your aunt wouldn’t have in her house. On the mantel are framed pictures of family and friends, including one of John Nelson playing a guitar. There’s a color TV and VCR, a long coffee table supporting a dish of jellybeans, and a small silver unicorn by the mantel. Atop the large mahogany piano sits an oversize white Bible. The only unusual thing in either of the two guest bedrooms is a two-foot statue of a smiling yellow gnome covered by a swarm of butterflies. One of the monarchs is flying out of a heart-shaped hole in the gnome’s chest. “A friend gave that to me, and I put it in the living room,” says Prince. “But some people said it scared them, so I took it out and put it in here.” Downstairs from the living room is a narrow little workroom with recording equipment and a table holding several notebooks. “Here’s where I recorded all of 1999,” says Prince, “all right in this room.” On a low table in the corner are three Grammys. “Wendy,” says Prince, “has got the Academy Award.” The work space leads into the master bedroom. It’s nice. And…normal. No torture devices or questionable appliances, not even a cigarette butt, beer tab or tea bag in sight. A four-poster bed above plush white carpeting, some framed pictures, one of Marilyn Monroe. A small lounging area off the bedroom provides a stereo, a lake-shore view and a comfortable place to stretch out on the floor and talk. And talk he did — his first interview in three years. A few hours later, Prince is kneeling in front of the VCR, showing his “Raspberry Beret” video. He explains why he started the clip with a prolonged clearing of the throat. “I just did it to be sick, to do something no one else would do.” He pauses and contemplates. “I turned on MTV to see the premiere of ‘Raspberry Beret’ and Mark Goodman was talking to the guy who discovered the backward message on ‘Darling Nikki.’ They were trying to figure out what the cough meant too, and it was sort of funny.” He pauses again. “But I’m not getting down on him for trying. I like that. I’ve always had little hidden messages, and I always will.” He then plugs in a videocassette of “4 the Tears in Your Eyes,” which he’s just sent to the Live Aid folks for the big show. “I hope they like it,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. change clothes.” He comes back a couple minutes later wearing another paisley jump suit, “the only kind of clothes I own.” And the boots? “People say I’m wearing heels because I’m short,” he says, laughing. “I wear heels because the women like ‘em.” A FEW MINUTES LATER, driving toward the First Avenue club, Prince is talking about the fate of the most famous landmark in Minneapolis. “Before Purple Rain,” he says, “all the kids who came to First Avenue knew us, and it was just like a big, fun fashion show. The kids would dress for themselves and just try to took really cool. Once you got your thing right, you’d stop looking at someone else. You’d be yourself, and you’d feel comfortable.” As we pull up in front of First Avenue, a Saturday-night crowd is milling around outside, combing their hair, smoking cigarettes, holding hands. They stare with more interest than awe as Prince gets out of the car. “You want to go to the [VIP] booth?” asks the bouncer. “Naah,” says Prince. “I feel like dancing.” A few feet off the packed dance floor stands the Family, taking a night off from rehearsing. Prince joins the band and laughs, kisses, soul shakes. Prince and three of Family members wade through a floor of Teddy-and-Eleanor-Mondale-brand funkettes and start moving. Many of the kids Prince passes either don’t see him or pretend they don’t care. Most of the rest turn their heads slightly to see the man go by, then simply continue their own motions. An hour later, he’s on the road again, roaring out of downtown. Just as he’s asked if there’s anything in the world that he wants but doesn’t have, two blondes driving daddy’s Porsche speed past. “I don’t,” Prince says with a giggle, “have them.” He catches up to the girls, rolls down the window and throws a ping-pong ball that was on the floor at them. They turn their heads to see what kind of geek is heaving ping-pong balls at them on the highway at two in the morning. When they see who it is, mouths drop, hands wave, the horn blares. Prince rolls up his window, smiles silently and speeds by.

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