SEASONAL ALLERGIES, MY ASS
Apparently, there are some people who only have allergy symptoms during the spring and fall. Other people don’t even have allergies, at all.
To all those people I say: Fuck you.
My allergies are year-round, and they are relentless. I wheeze, sneeze, seep and grumble during every season, whenever the wind blows. I can usually only breathe out of one nostril, and it feels like my nose is stuffed with a hunk of congealed silly string.
With the exception of dogs, I am allergic to everything - pollen, dust, mold, ragweed, and grass. I am allergic to things indoors and outdoors. I’m even allergic to metal - if it touches my skin, it makes me rashy. I can’t wear clothes with metal closures or wear cheap jewelry for too long. I have to paint the buckles of my sandals with nail polish to keep them from giving me rashes.
I don’t know how I got so sensative. I doubt it’s that my mom didn’t expose herself to environmental toxins while pregnant. I was born in 1980, before they knew about mercury, or mold spores, or that drinking while pregnant could make you downsy. I didn’t even have allergies as a kid; they all developed as an adult, along with my lactose intolerance.
So I guess this is just one of the pleasures of grownuphood, along with 401(k)s, graying hair, and saggy boobs. Maybe by the time I’m 80 I’ll have to live in a bubble. I may be unable to eat cheese, drink milk, smell flowers or wear earrings without discomfort, but I’ll still have beer.
