So here we are..the first day of school, at least for some of the bigger districts in Wisconsin. Peaches is starting high school, Skippy is starting his last semester of high school.
But I'm not here to drip sentimentality all over you.
No I'm here today to talk about another of my growing list of odd ailments.
Apparently...I have prickly heat.
I know...what person over the age of 3 gets prickly heat?
Well, I guess I do. At least I'm hoping that's what it is as opposed to what I've been calling it which is "A rash fat women get in various crevices of their lumpy fat rolls."
Yes, Prickly Heat sounds better. Cool, in sort of an old Western movie sort of way. Like John Wayne would walk in a say, "Ma'am, that's a mighty fine batch of biscuits you're cookin' there, but why don't you set a spell and take some easy from that Prickly Heat that's tormenting you?"
See, if you say it that way, it sounds almost romantic.
Reality, for me, is of course far more hilarious.
|Parting the Red Sea was just a cover for |
a raging case of prickly heat.
But none of that is the funny part.
No, the funny part came, as it usually does, while Hubby was trying to help. Baby powder, says he, will cure your sweaty suffering.
So off he goes to procure me baby powder. He returns with something better! GOLD BOND EXTRA STRENGTH...in a GREEN BOTTLE. (Anyone care to guess what the green means?)
I'm so excited about this find, because I know, I KNOW that it will be the cure to my itchy ailment. So I shower, and I dry off. Then I open the green bottle of the powder and apply...liberally.
|Beautiful form, long legged|
for a raging case of prickly heat.
Do you know what sort of calms the effect menthol has on sweaty skin? Because I do. It's a sort of weird little dance that keeps your droopy bits from sticking to any other skin, thereby trapping the menthol in a moist 98 degree cooker ready to explode with an icy menthol burn.
After a few moments, it passed. And there I stood, in the middle of the kitchen, a little circle of excess powder around me, my husband trying very hard not to laugh.
BUT you know what? My elbow pits aren't driving me crazy. Bonus...I'll bet that dancing counts as a workout. Which means I don't feel guilty about not going to Gold's today!
WHOO HOO! BRING ON MORE MENTHOL!