The *Itch Is Back

Tuesday, September 18th, 2012

Dear Bloggary:

This isn’t the first time I’ve wanted to rip my skin off, but it’s been a while since I’ve wanted to so badly. (No, Dear Bloggary, it’s not some bizarre cult ritual.) I’m covered in rash from chin to chest, upper back to upper arms. Itch is my new middle name. (No, Dear Bloggary, there is no ‘B’ in itch.) I’m starting a new version of “The Itchy And Scratchy Show”, It has me walking around shirtless.  After a week of trying various treatments that didn’t stop the spread, I finally saw the doctor. We still haven’t figured out the cause, but a treatment has been prescribed. It makes me smell slightly like a jar of Vicks, but if it works, I’ll endure the mentholated aroma. (No, Dear Bloggary, you may not call me Vicky…and that’s ITHCHY! No ‘B’!) I suppose I’ve been a little irritable lately, but, hopefully, that will subside along with the irritation.  At least it’s not as serious as my last severe itch. Contact dermatitis is a much better diagnosis than malignant melanoma. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, I had a brief stay at the Hotel Melanoma, and no, you may not call me Mel, either. You are becoming a bigger irritant than the rash.)

At least I have another day off work to walk around topless before I have to endure the extra pain of material friction. (No, Dear Bloggary, I don’t believe a rash was the reason for Kate, the Duchess of Cambridge going topless.)

I suppose I should wear a top to rehearsal tomorrow night. Although the cast is all women, the windows have no blinds, and Paparazzi are everywhere. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, that was a joke…and you may call me Kate.)

I should go now, Dear Bloggary. Hopefully, I’ll get some sleep tonight, or tomorrow I may be itchy with a ‘B’. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, I meant bitchy that time.)

that time.)

Good night.

Yours,

Shannon

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