I THINK. I'm ALLERGIC. To my purse. To my PURSE, people! Purse! Accessory! Allergic! Hives!
Right, let's back up. Remember the sickness and the strep and the days that felt like death that I had to go through a few weeks ago? Remember how they put me on penicillin and then I developed the Joey Potter formation of hives on the back of my hand? Remember the little replica of the solar system that I had going on up and down my right arm?
Let's back up even further. For my birthday, Bubbles gave me the cutest summer bag. It's casual and fun and all purpose for daytime use. It's basically a off-white canvas tote with blue straps and blue piping, but on the side, it's got a painted surface that depicts a pretty French Riviera scene, with a flapper-type girl in her bathing costume. And it's cute! And I love it! And it's got sequins highlighting different parts of the scene! And really, how much better can it possibly get, right? Sequins! (I know, it sounds cheap and rhinestone-trailer-y, but it's totally not. Trust me on this one.)
So, anyway, last week, just after I'd finished thanking all that is holy that the worst of my hives had died, I started itching and sneezing, and dammit all to hell, there's three more hives on my arm! So I started bemoaning to Angel, and she made a joke that I could be allergic to my purse, because the blasted things popped up right around the area that always had contact with that purse. "Ha! Ha ha!" I said, and promptly forgot about it, because really, how silly is that? Pshaw. Allergic to my purse. Tsk. Really.
Yesterday, I noticed that the last of the hives had dried up and ceased making my life a horrible itching cesspool of misery and defeat. Life is good, life is grand, la la la la life goes on.
This morning, I decided to wear my blue and white dress - so cute, with the scooped neckline and the cap sleeves and the summery goodness. Blue and white, poppets - that could only mean I'd have to bring out The Purse.
About an hour ago, I let go three humoungoid sneezes - because your Mare? She's not familiar with the delicate achoo. She sneezes, and her rolly-castor office chair gets pushed back a few feet. Her sneezes resound through the office, making her colleagues titter and their hair stand on end. Her sneezes show up on weather radar and get baptised with names like Hugo and Josephine. So, anyway, I sneeze, and then I itch, and sure enough, on the underside of my right arm, two fresh and scratch red bumps have appeared.
And poppets? They don't at all work with my outfit!
It could only be my purse. It could be the sequins, or it could be the paint, but I suspect it's the paint. And it's just so ridiculous! Ugh!
I mean, I try. I try! This is the third time this week that my bra and underwear not only match each other, but they also match my outfit! See? I'm following the accessory rules! And then what happens? The accessories go and bite me in the... arm.
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