...Think, Think, Think...

No Bubbles

The two most awful words to the ears of a beauty junkie.  No bubbles.

They screech, cutting you to your very core.  The horror.  THE HORROR.

A couple of weeks back, I noticed a little red round patch on my arm.  Nothing major, not itchy or weeping or anything grim.  Just a little red patch.

Then a couple of days later another one.  A bit further up on that arm.  At intervals, cue repeats on my thigh, my chest, back, calf, hip.  Some of them are a bit itchy.  Blech.

Last week I decided I'd best make myself a doctors appointment as it was definitely getting worse.  Earliest the one who specialises in the skin stuff could see me was today, at the surgery in the "group" that is the furthest from my house.  1.9 miles walking, according to Google Maps.

All weekend, I scoured the internet trying to self-diagnose, which we all know is a fools game.  Eventually I came to what I felt was the only logical conclusion.  It was Ringworm and it was obviously the cat's fault.  She hates me anyway, so why not infect me with hideous fungus?  Smug little sod.*

Turns out, I am not fungal.  Its eczema.  This brings both good and bad news.

Good news - I am not fungal.  Always nice to know.

Bad news - No bubbles.

By that, I mean that the doctor has advised that I use no perfumed products or bath/shower doo-dahs that lather until this is all sorted.

Its likely to be caused by a cold weather/central heating combo, mixed with my love for baths so hot you could cook food in them and a good dose of stress thrown in for seasoning. 

I've now got all sorts of new but boringly packaged, un-sexy smelling products to use.  E45.  Doublebase Gel.  Some sort of steroid cream just in case the itching gets unbearable.  And no more scalding hot baths.  I'm allowed short, warm showers.  Lucky me.  Just what you crave after a long day at work "Oooh yes, I'll have a quick splash in some lukewarm water for 30 seconds".  Great.

I'm torn between my love for soaking in a hot bubbly tub and my vanity i.e. knowing that to not look like a plague victim I have to take the advice.  Okay, I exaggerate.  I don't look like a plague victim.  children are not singing Ring a Ring o' Roses at me as I walk down the street** but I feel SO unattractive. 

I'll try to be good.  I switched from a daily shower/bath routine to a shower only routinue before when I had my tattoo done.  Although that was in late summer/early autumn so I felt less of a need to surround myself with a warm cocoon. 

As a plus point for friends and colleagues, I'll be going through my huge box of bath and shower goodies and handing out some castoffs.  I may alternatively open a branch of Boots.  I do believe I have enough stock to last until sometime in mid-February.

What I find most interesting slightly appalling is that the stress of one thing or another at work has had me feeling run down for ages.  It is only now that I'm showing physical/cosmetic signs of stress that my vanity kicks in and goes "Oi! You'd best do somethng about this.  You're starting to look a bit rough".  Am I really so shallow that my appearance is a stronger motivator than my health?

I'm not going to answer that.  You can draw your own conclusions.  The only hint I'll give you is that I will be redirecting my bath/body product fund into expanding my makeup collection.

* I apologised today.  I picked her up and hugged her and she looked more unimpressed at that than at the accusation.

** Did you spot the deliberate mistake here?  I know, I know.  Its nothing to do with the plague.  All a myth.  I was just testing.

Frightening the Nurse

Today, my first day off a week off, has been awesome.

I've been productive. I've also been health conscious.

After I had one lot of tests done at the hospital a couple of weeks back, I went back to the doctors today for a smear test.  Boys, you probably don't want to hear the details and I won't share.  Girls, you've been there, you know what its like.

I chat to the nurse while she fills out the form and tells me that although I've got symptoms that the doctor wanted to get checked out the people who do the tests may not actually do the test because I'm not due one. Over here they do these tests every 3 to 5 years and its been just over 2 years since my last one. 

This is, of course, insane.  Surely if there is something serious wrong (which there probably isn't, but go with me on this) and they make me wait a year to have a test - I could be dead by then.  Then the test is pointless. 

The nurse pulls the little curtains around the bed and tells me to get undressed.  I know the drill with this sort of stuff.  Drop Trou, remove undies, lay on couch with feet together (no stirrups at my doctors) and knees apart.

Now comes the funny part.  She comes through the curtains, takes one look at me "down there" and shrieks:

"OH MY GOD, I don't know how you could get a piercing?  You're so brave."

I burst out laughing at this.  Fortunately, the few people who normally get to see this piece of jewellery have a somewhat more favourable response.

I explained to her that its actually not that painful in the grand scheme of things.  Its a hood piercing, its a teeny bit of skin and it only hurts when the needle goes through.  She apologised for reacting so strangely but she said it makes her want to cross her legs.

I thought about telling her that it really hurts to do that when you've just had it done, but decided that maybe it'd make her feel worse...

Getting Lippy

Dad, do you think this lipstick is too much?

Erm...yeah.  It is.

I thought so.  Its a bit heavy.

Yeah, makes your mouth look really big.

Hmm.  I do feel a bit like a painted doll.

Its more like blow-up doll.

I'll change.