Hilariously — I discovered some time ago — I had developed a severe allergy to band-aids. Specifically the adhesive: medical tape was out, waterproof, sensitive skin, Snoopy decals. I’d wear one for an hour and sport the telltale parallel welts for weeks, waiting impatiently for the sweet fade into a less violent, more subtle chemical burn. This problem has proved to be more inconvenient than you’d think. Holding gauze against one’s skin for a couple of hours, while usually hilariously doable, isn’t always an option.
“Doctor,” I said, “I think I have ringworm.”
“Indeed you do!” he cried. “Sweet Lord!”
“Oh, oh oh oh wait,” I added. “See, I didn’t want my boyfriend to catch it while we slept, so I covered all of the rashes with band-aids — only I’m allergic to band-aids, which I knew, only as I’ve gotten older the allergy has gotten worse I guess, so I’m hideous. Just ignore that, that and that, and this over here, and also that. The things we do for love, right?”
He stared at me in disbelief. “Ringworm isn’t communicable.”
“What!” I cried. “That’s not what the internet said.”
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(For those of you concerned, this is now in the blessed distant past. And I still didn’t believe him over all the entries I’d read online, and wore long underwear and turtlenecks until that shit was gone.)
wasn’t “subtle chemical burn” the name of your second album?
It was now!
I can’t wear band-aids, or any generic brand, either! I wonder what it is about our genes that hate sticky stuff…
Isn’t ringworm some fungus that one can pick up on shower-room floors, thus the need for shower shoes in college?! That stuff is totally contagious! Right…?