Archives for July 2015

The Butterfly Effect

The Butterfly Effect: Finding Sanctuary in Butterfly Town, USA, By Jennifer Lunden was a piece of creative nonfiction that I chose to present to my Creative Nonfiction class early in 2014, during the last year of my Diploma at Victoria University (VU).


My Creative Nonfiction teacher, the wonderful Michelle Fincke, read the following analysis of ‘The Butterfly Effect’ out in class. (The 3M mask, I sometimes have to wear to protect my airways from fragrances, solvents and petrochemicals, prevented me from being able to read this out loud due to lack of oxygen, compounding already existing upper respiratory health problems; these are (head pains, sinus pain, shortness of breath) issues that happen while talking for extended periods of time while wearing the cloistering thing!)

This particular Professional Writing and Editing class was early on in the semester, and it was only during the first two weeks that I had to suffer wearing a mask for the whole class: after that short, but intense, time, this wonderful and compassionate teacher managed to persuade and gain the understudying of my fellow classmates as to why and how they could help accommodate and include me in classes. For the rest of the semester I attended classes without wearing a mask (I still wore it in my car and into the building), and I was able to read out my own work to the class. (Having the air purifiers running in the classroom also helped! As did a tick sheet, which allowed me to assess the air without having to breath it in to do so.)

Here is the written analysis of Lunden’s piece that was read out by Michelle on my behalf:

One of the reasons that I, particularly, like The Butterfly Effect: Finding Sanctuary in Butterfly Town, USA is because it’s written by the writer, Jennifer Lunden, who just happens to have the same condition that I have; although over in the US, it’s called Multiple Chemical Sensitivity (MCS); another reason is it’s about the Monarch Butterflies and their habitat, our Earth. Lunden manages to weave both topics seamlessly into this wonderfully written work of creative nonfiction.


It’s probably my all-time favourite creative nonfiction piece of another writer’s work. Ever.

The story reads like fiction because Lunden uses two timelines, the first is of her as a young girl, aged 9, where she is fascinated with Monarch caterpillars and their metamorphism into butterflies, and the second is of her as an adult diagnosed with Multiple Chemical Sensitivities, researching the Monarchs, and weaving into the story her analysis that many people with Multiple Chemical Sensitivity are unable to find safe habitats—as is also the case for many of the Monarch butterflies. The story is ultimately about saving the butterflies and finding solutions to the population’s decline.

One literary device used in this piece is the tactic of switching point of view (POV) throughout: mostly, it’s written in first person POV; ergo, there are two parts where it’s written in third person POV. After careful analysis of the text, I think these are both about a young girl and the way she sees the beauty of the butterflies, and her relationship with them. It’s not directly clear if the girl is Lunden, herself, or not, but personally, as a reader, I felt that it most certainly is. This switching about of POVs is also a literary device utilised by some savvy creative nonfiction writers to make their work more interesting: it creates a greater emotional connection with the reader, allowing them to see and feel events from another’s perspective.


I also enjoyed the way she has written about what it’s like to be forced to wear a mask if you have this condition and need to attempt to partake in normal life. (I’ve included two examples below.) And, during undertaking the research for this story, even though Lunden knows the journey might make her ill, she attempts it anyway, and writes about it. I can relate to this in so many ways:

it’s like our passion carries more power than our illness (sometimes; and if only for a while until we get knocked flat, once again).

It’s obvious that this is creative nonfiction because it’s factual but also something Lunden is enthusiastic about… Not only is it written using wonderful imagery and figurative language such as metaphors, similes and analogies, but also includes facts, research and quotes from interviews. These all make for mind-riveting reading.  I take an awesome amount of inspiration from all of this; but, at the same time, I feel deeply despondent that it’s almost a guarantee that she will, and does, have her health intruded on by chemical exposures impacting upon her immune system, just from going out into the world to pursue her interest: writing about the butterflies.

I especially enjoyed the use of metaphors throughout the piece. Such as this example: “They are nature’s stained-glass windows, flying high between us and the sun.” to describe the butterflies and the pattern on their wings. As a reader, for me, this creates the most intensely beautiful imagery: I feel in touch with the creatures even though I’m [at the time or writing this] enclosed in a tiny foil-lined room.

“They are nature’s stained-glass windows, flying high between us and the sun.”

Rightfully so, Lunden’s story won the 2012 Pushcart Prize for Creative Non Fiction:

“The Pushcart Prize: Best of the Small Presses series, published every year since 1976, is the most honored literary project in America.”

The Butterfly Effect: Finding Sanctuary in Butterfly Town, USA

By Jennifer Lunden

Some Extracts from Lunden’s piece (Note: the whole story is linked to at the end of this post):


“It was cold in Maine. Cold. And the snow was heaped in dirty piles on the side of the road. And the sidewalks were icy. And it got dark at 4:30 in the afternoon.

It was the dead of winter, and I wanted out, so I flew to California—to Pacific Grove, aka Butterfly Town, USA, to see the monarchs. It was a journey home, really, though I had never been there.

I grew up in a box-shaped house on a well-manicured lawn in the suburbs of a mid-sized Canadian city in Ontario. Across the road and abutting the river was a patch of city land, untended, wild, a field of tall grasses flecked with milkweed and Queen Anne’s lace. There, I discovered my first monarch caterpillar. I was 9 years old, and I had never seen anything like it. Boldly ringed in concentric stripes—black, yellow and white—it was stretched out on a milkweed leaf, eating. I plucked it off, held it in my hand, touched it with my fingers. Its skin was smooth, leathery. It did not roll up in a ball. It did not seem afraid. Docile. I broke off the milkweed near the top and carried my find home.

I scoured the fields in search of more. I filled jars with milkweed and caterpillars. I pounded nail holes in the lids. I spent hours watching them.

They ate voraciously. I could see their mandibles working. I could see the chunks they took out of the leaves, bite by bite. They grew fast, and before I knew it, they were climbing to the lids of their jars. They spun small mounds of silk and attached themselves to the mounds and hung there in the shapes of J’s for a long, long time. And then, when the moment was right, they split the skins on their backs, wrestled with themselves and turned inside-out, and, suddenly, there they were, something wholly different: an emerald green chrysalis with little golden flecks and a gold crown.


They would hang for days, for what seemed like forever, and nothing changed. And then one day, I could see the darkening. The butterfly was forming. Soon, I could see the outline of a wing. The orange. The black veins. The white polka dots.

The waiting for what would come next. … It seemed interminable.

I didn’t want to miss it.”

Example one by Jennifer Lunden:


“I have a carbon filter mask. If I were to give it a name, I think it would have a male name. Tom. Something strong and protective.

My mask is battleship gray. It shields me from perfumes and colognes, air fresheners, cleaning products, pesticides, fumes from fresh paint. I carry it in a baggie in my purse, and I take it out now, on this airplane, and strap it on.

I wear it when I can feel the headache coming on. When it hits, it feels as though my brain has swollen inside the cradle of my scalp. A fog rolls in. My capacity to juggle a number of thoughts at once, an ability most people take for granted, dwindles. It alarms me when this happens, when my brain gives way.

I have it easy compared to some people. I know people who suffer seizures when exposed to chemicals. Closed airways, joint and muscle pain, nausea, insomnia, disabling fatigue. Panic attacks, mood swings. I know people who could never hazard the bad air on planes. Some of them live in ceramic trailers in the deserts of Arizona. Some of them are homeless; they live in their cars or tents. They can’t find anyplace safe to breathe. They can’t find habitat.

We call ourselves “canaries in the coal mine.” We have multiple-chemical sensitivity, and our numbers are growing.”

Example two by Jennifer Lunden


“My other mask—my special occasion mask—is a flowery, lacy affair, skin-toned, with a little rose appliqué by its left strap. Feminine. Or as feminine as a fume-deterring mask can be.

It’s not any better, really, this flowery, lacy mask. What I really want is a mask bearing an appliquéd symbol that stands for “your toxic products are making me sick.” It would be nice if the symbol could point out, too, that 62,000 chemicals used in the United States have never been tested for safety. That we are human guinea pigs. That while we think our government would surely protect us from egregious toxins, we are wrong.

But what would that symbol look like?

If I have to wear something that makes me stand out in a crowd, I’d rather it not be something that stands for “crazy” (think Michael Jackson) or “communicable” (think SARS). I want people to know that this mask isn’t about me so much as it is about us.”


I love the way that Lunden has drawn attention to the Monarch Butterflies while also showing how people sensitive to chemicals are intrinsically linked to what is happening to our precious ecosystem and its inhabitants. Of course, when I read about her experience with the mask, it blew my mind: here is a person going through what I am and she is (or was at the time) studying creative nonfiction!

When my teacher read this out to the class, I could tell she really liked it because she read it with such enthusiasm, and she even said to me that I had chosen a great piece because of the content and my situation: Getting a whole class to go fragrance free when the school is yet to implement a fragrance-free policy (yet!) is no easy task—for the teacher or the student!

However, I truly believe that having this particular author’s work on this particular subject read out to the class as my example of a work of creative nonfiction helped lay the foundation for getting that large group of students to help me. It surely helped cement in the understanding of why it was so important that students not wear chemical-laden products to class. And, yes, it worked!

To Jennifer Lunden, Michelle Fincke, my fellow students and VU, if you ever read this post, thank you: all of you have enriched my life in so many ways. Yay! I have a Diploma. (I can’t stop saying this; and I still feel like I’m dreaming.)

Love Michellina and the world’s Butterflies xo

More About Jennifer Lunden

One Canary Sings

Read Jennifer Lunden’s Blog: One Canary Sings ~ Notes from an Industrialised Body

Read all of ‘The Butterfly Effect: Finding Sanctuary in Butterfly Town, USA‘ ~ by Jennifer Lunden

Creative Creative Nonfiction ~ True Stories Told Well

Jennifer Lunden: I Know the Truth, I Know it In My Body

Michellina Van Loder is a Professional Writer, Journalist and Blogger. This is where she shares her tales about trail blazing her way out of the Labyrinth of Chemical Sensitivities and Mould. This is also where you will find the latest Research on related topics.

Bras for Chemically Sensitive People

This post, on bras for people who’re sensitive to chemicals, starts with conventional bras through to organic. I’ve yet to find an organic bra that I’m comfortable wearing everyday; so it’s been a matter of them being non-chemically odorous, bright in colour, pretty, durable and supportive, and in that order, to fit my taste. As soon as I find a bra that fits this criteria I always buy a few:

My fav bra right now: Free people have bras without underwire. (I paid 15$ for mine on sale from ASOS. This company is gracious about returning anything defective cause it’s been fragranced during manufacture, which, they’ve told me, is not what’s meant to happen.) Free People’s bras are not organic and most are made from either cotton or polyamide. Polyamide. It’s a fine gauge, stretchy lace, often with a few parts made from double fabric. They’re not that supportive but I like these bras because they allow my ta ta’s to feel free; the fabric doesn’t smell overtly of anything much (as opposed to the elastic used in Target’s fabrics [think: heavy petrochemical and formaldehyde odours!]); and, when I wash them they come good right away. No crap, I’ve had bras that have needed to be aired over the whole summer and washed a tonne of times before they became fit for purpose. No one wants to go through that. (Companies need to wake up to themselves, yeah?)


Barely There have a cotton underwire bra, however, I’m pretty sure the cups are layered with polyurethane foam. They may outgass after a while but you wouldn’t want this happening while you are wearing it.  I used to religiously wear the Barely There Contour Bras, however, I didn’t buy any to air out over last summer, and there’s no point purchasing them in winter because I can’t air them until the weather warms right up. So I’ve moved on… to free-er ta ta’s. (I’ve linked to Booby Trap Warehouse in Australia because they’re good about making sure their products arrive free of fragrance. Just make sure to put it in the comment box on the order page.) (Bras that have been tried on by fragrance wearers, or handled by fragrance wearers, stored or sold in places that have fragrance emitting devices, potpourri, or the those stinky sticks, are not suitable for people like us. Rarely does fragrance wash out. If it’s not fit for purpose, return it! I always do.)

Boody have an organic bamboo bra, and they sell knickers and jocks made from the same bamboo material also.

Blessed Earth sell an organic cotton sports bra with straps; it’s in a racerback style for added support. This bra could be suitable as a sports bra or for doing yoga in. I’ve bought from here before and the price is usually reasonable considering they are organic. The bedding and clothes they sell always arrive without incense or other scents on them. Elastic is of the non-stinking petrochemical variety.

Rawganique make organic cotton wireless bras that are dioxin-free, formaldehyde free, wire-free, chemical-free, sweat-shop free. They’re made in USA, Canada and Europe. These bras are suitable for people with elastic allergy, lycra allergy or latex allergy (apart from the actual rubber and latex components, it’s possible that it’s actually petrochemicals people are reacting to when they say they are allergic to elastic or lycra. I know this is the case for me because I have massive problems with some elastics; and it’s petrol I can smell on them when they are new. Some of these have never washed clean.) It will depend on your chemical sensitivity as to which bra you chose:

Organic Pima Cotton Lace Bra: jersey with elastic under the bust and in the straps for support.

RG188 Organic Cotton Simplicity Bra: lycra (approximately 5-10%) jersey fabric. It’s elastic free.

And lastly, there are also organic tank tops and bras (90% cotton, 10% latex) and camisoles that contain no elastic or latex.



Rawganique: The Beginner’s Guide to Chemical-free Organic Products

Discover Magazine: Extreme Chemical Sensitivity Makes Sufferers Allergic to Life

The Labyrinth: Organic Bras

The Labyrinth: Take Off Your Bra

Debra Lynn Dadd: Trying to Find a Bra


Michellina Van Loder is a Professional Writer, Journalist and Blogger. This is where she shares her tales about trail blazing her way out of the Labyrinth of Chemical Sensitivities and Mould. This is also where you will find the latest Research on related topics.

Cassandras Rather than Canaries

As a metaphor explaining the far-reaching consequences for those of us with environmental health conditions, the Canary in the Coal Mine works: Miners used to take caged canaries along with them down into the coal mines because, when exposed to toxic and noxious gases from the coal, canaries are guaranteed to suffer ill health effects, dying far sooner than their human carers ever would. If a canary carked it or became sick or distressed, it was a sign to be heeded—a prophetic warning: the miners needed to get the hell out. (We who’re sensitive to chemicals are the canaries; the rest of you who’re reading this are the miners. Welcome.)


More from the Grammarist on actual canaries in coal mines:

The practice was phased out, at least in the U.S. and the U.K., by the late 20th century, but the phrase canary in the coal mine lives as a metaphor for any warning of serious danger to come. The canary is not prophetic until it is brought in the coalmine, so the metaphor works especially well if the prophetic thing is small, innocent, and not prophetic under normal circumstances.

The metaphor weaves for us a rich tapestry clearly showing the predicament our world is in with more and more people becoming chemically sensitive. A yellow canary is often used symbolically for Multiple Chemical Sensitivity (MCS) (also known, in some parts of the world, as Environmental Illness (EI)). As much as I like these birds, I’d much rather share a comparison to an eagle or a phoenix, a cockatiel even, because symbolically, canaries carry connotations of fragility and weakness. But that’s the point; isn’t it? And, often, these birds are kept locked up in cages: there are many chemically sensitive people who are forced to imprison themselves to avoid—or cut back on—chemical exposures. As I write this, housebound, it’s uncomfortable having a bird that’s often kept in a cage represent me (and my chemically sensitive brothers and sisters). Paradoxically, at the same time, it’s kinship I feel whenever I see an image of a canary on someone’s website or social media page.

On the whole, the canary, as a symbol, and the Canary in the Coalmine, as a metaphor, work well together to get people to understand our predicament. But does this metaphor actually fit the reality of our situation?

In 2001, Gillian McCarthy, who has experienced an extremely serious case of Multiple Chemical Sensitivity and, therefore, is someone who should absolutely be listened to, authored a piece titled, Canaries or Cassandras?, published over at MCS Aware. She points out the missing element in this Canary in the Coalmine caper: the canaries’ warnings were headed! 

Often/sometimes, ours (the people who are chemically sensitive) are ignored or we can be told we are mentally ill/being difficult/or neurotic.


What? My Illness is Psychogenic?


More from McCarthy:

It is my contention that MCS victims are not the “Canaries‟; they are the “Cassandras‟ of the 20th/21st Century. When coal miners‟ canaries reacted to carbon monoxide, the miners didn’t abuse them, tell them they were psychiatrically ill or refuse them proper food and shelter; they took notice and acted accordingly!

Cassandra, on the other hand, was the daughter of King Priam of Troy. She was endowed by the god Apollo with the true gift of prophesy, but because she would not let him have his “wicked way‟ with her, he then condemned her prophesies to eternal disbelief. She correctly predicted the Wooden Horse of Troy and was “stoned‟ by the people of Troy for her trouble. This “shoot the messenger” trait is much in evidence amongst the medical*, scientific* “flat earthers” as well as the vested interests* who gleefully fuel and manipulate their ill-informed and out-dated misinformation* in an attempt to discredit MCS as a diagnosis, the doctors who diagnose and treat it and, disgracefully, the often very poorly patients whose lives have been devastated by the condition.

Personally, I’ve had my own experiences where I’ve not been believed. By someone who I was close to. I guess it was just too inconvenient to accommodate my illness… ? Even just this year, I had a visit to a doctor, an Ear Nose and Throat (ENT) specialist, who told me that he doesn’t believe my condition exists, “Those people who say they have MCS… it’s all psychogenic”, he said while gesturing across the room as if talking about a group of invisible people sitting there. Talk about people having screwed up belief systems!(You know, I didn’t say to this doctor that I had MCS, as my diagnosis is inhalant allergies with chemical sensitivities, however, due to needing to undergo a medical procedure, I did give him the MCS Hospital Guidelines!)

Ergo, 98% of my visits to specialists and the like have been positive; I’ve always felt believed and accommodated (in fact, until now, I’d never considered the idea of not being believed!). However, because I’ve had that experience with the ENT, I now know what evil can lurk behind a smile and a white coat.

I even know where the mythology of MCS and psychogenic theory stems from: In 1998, Stephen Barrett MD, a psychiatrist who never even passed the bar exam and author of Multiple Chemical Sensitivity: A Spurious Diagnosis, and Ronald Gots, a paid specialist in the areas of litigation, regulation, environmental/occupational medicine, indoor environmental matters, toxicology (and provider of scientific/medical support in individual tort and mass tort claims, involving a range of biological and chemical agents, as well as pharmaceuticals) cowrote the book, Chemical Sensitivity: The Truth About Environmental Illnessfull of the kind of psychogenic theories that form the basis for modern day discrimination and alienation of chemically sensitive people today.

By spreading misinformation on MCS, Gots, Barrett (and another flat-earther, Herman Staudenmayer) have done an enormous disservice to a multitude of chemically sensitive and possibly disabled individuals everywhere.

More from author of The Best Science Money Can Buy, Will Moredock, on The Environmental Illness Resource (EiR):

To fight its PR wars, the chemical industry created something called the Environmental Sensitivities Research Institute, which seems to be modeled after the Tobacco Research Institute. TRI has been pumping out misinformation and questionable data for decades, trying to keep the waters muddied on the health effects of smoking. Funded by such corporate giants as DowElanco, Proctor & Gamble and Monsanto, ESRI is headed by Dr. Ronald Gots, who also runs the National Medical Advisory Service, which provides expert witnesses to defend chemical corporations in tort lawsuits.


Is this Stephen Barret from Quackwatch?

This is not okay with me; still, I’m ready to fight the good fight. But from a historical perspective, and, as McCarthy points out, look at what chemically sensitive people had (and still have) to live through—even just fifteen years ago, back when she wrote this:

MCS is truly a Cassandra Syndrome—and ironically, more than one seriously ill sufferer has had stones thrown at their homes – myself included. All the MCS sufferers I know, young or old, totally crippled or moderately functional, have had varying degrees of abuse and derision thrown at them—rather like lepers in the Dark Ages and beyond. Why? MCS isn’t catching—(although family members and nurses have been made ill by the sweat of detoxing patients—by direct contact).

Clearly the authorities ignore/deride/abuse sufferers:

a) to try and avoid spending money in the short term, although the cost of increasingly disabled sufferers kept ill by ignorant, culpable neglect in the long term is rising,

b) because of nebulous fears that if they acknowledge the condition, somebody might sue them—although all the sufferers I know are more interested in getting treatment and controlling their illness, but are more likely to sue if pushed into a corner by the passive/aggressive neglect of those authorities,

c) because some authorities (and some individuals within those authorities) are manifestly influenced, knowingly or unknowingly, by vested interests likely to be damaged by any acknowledgement of its reality and must therefore be avoided at all costs. The trouble is, the cost may be relative peanuts to the vested interests, but it is costing lives, livelihoods and lifestyle of the sufferers and their families and connections.

Why do members of the public, GPs, neighbours, even fellow religious groups/church members and some family members also match this stance—like the good, but misguided, citizens of Troy, often in a shockingly aggressive or at best, dismissive and hurtful way. These same people would not dream of saying to a diabetic (who has a much more simple condition to manage) “what you need is a big box of chocolates”, will readily say to a desperately hungry MCS sufferer miserably existing on millet or buckwheat because that’s all they can keep down,—“what you need is a damn good meal”. If only!

Why did the people of Troy stone the very person who warned them of danger? Fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the implications for them, fear of the consequences, et al. This problem is here, but is seen as being too big to “get their heads round” and therefore goes unacknowledged. People feel cornered and confused and in their fear and ignorance they lash out. They blame the victims. Sadly, they may soon join the victims, if they have not already unknowingly have done so—with their as yet “unconnected” string of end-organ dis-eases*.

McCarthy shares with us some of her own personal story:

I am one person who has been comprehensively lashed out at since I was first (organo chlorine) poisoned in 1972 and multiply organo phosphate poisoned from 1974 onwards and subsequently diagnosed with MCS in 1983, after years of desperate health problems and many mystified doctors. I am not an “isolated case”*. I am frequently told I am one of the “worst affected” sufferers living (although my existence can hardly be said to be called living).

My story, and that of the many other “allegedly” isolated cases of MCS is a salutary reminder that “there but for the Grace of God…”. The story of those who have lashed out at me, to continue the Biblical allusion, is graphically encapsulated by “scorners delight in their scorning and fools hate knowledge” (Ecclesiastes 1.18).

You too could lose your career, your health, your home, your car, your treasured possessions, your lifestyle, and like some sufferers, your marriage, your children in to Care, indeed your very life—if you are struck down by MCS and consigned to the “mercy” (sic) of the British Medical Establishment and Authorities and “Care” and Housing Authorities, once you have exhausted your own financial resources—triggered because an error is made treating your office for cockroaches, or you get sprayed walking your dog past a field, or you habitually lick your golf tees on a golf course sprayed with Ops, or joyfully move into a new home which has been furnished with MDF furniture and carpets treated with toxic chemicals—just after a dose of flu has compromised your immune system. One sufferer I know has been badly affected since she lay in a pool of diesel following a motor accident, until she could be cut from the wreckage. It can be that simple—it could happen to you, like other sufferers, through no fault of your own!

A recent sycophantic review of a book debunking Green Issues in a national Sunday newspaper sneeringly referred to environmentalists as “environmental Cassandras” – erroneously forgetting that the trouble with the much maligned Cassandra is—she was always right!! (I hate to tell you this…)


Enter the Trojan horse (my favourite piece  of writing by McCarthy):

The insidious and cumulative incursion of harmful, often xenobiotic chemicals in entirely unresearched and potentially chemically synergistic culminations, could be the 21st century Wooden Horse that stealthily brings artificially created “improvements” under the cloak of industry-led consumerism and advertising. This conceals a rampaging horde of trouble for those it purports to shield and benefit.

By listening to naysayers while ignoring the modern day Cassandras (and their prophetism) and the canaries (and their choking on pollution and petroleum byproducts) we run the risk of predicting, while simultaneously ignoring, our own impending demise.

McCarthy leaves us with:

This new millennium is the time for a new beginning, new attitudes, new perspectives and approaches and a new positive principle of humanity towards sufferers, whose condition doctors don‟t always comprehend – but that does not mean they should be denigrated, demeaned and disbelieved because they do not “fit‟ any of the ailments for which the doctors have been trained. We pride ourselves on our kindness to animals, now it is time to be kind and take note of your Canaries before you too are poisoned and brought to your knees.



You can read the rest of McCarthy’s ‘Canaries or Cassandras’, here

Post, written by Michellina van Loder from the blog The Labyrinth and Finding My Way Out, may be reprinted and distributed freely. Please reblog…


Support: MCS Aware Shop

Patrick Pontillo: MCS Denier, EPIC Takedown #2: Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Formaldehyde

Myths and Facts About Chemical Sensitivity

Michellina Van Loder is a Professional Writer, Journalist and Blogger. This is where she shares her tales about trail blazing her way out of the Labyrinth of Chemical Sensitivities and Mould. This is also where you will find the latest Research on related topics.

Information, products and views presented by guest bloggers @The Labyrinth are not necessarily the same as those held by this blog's author, Michellina van Loder. Reviews are my own personal opinions (unless stated otherwise); and satire is used throughout personal posts. Any health topics discussed are not to be taken as medical advice. Seek out medical attention if needed and do your own research; however, you're welcome to use mine as a start.
Translate »