Apparently today is “Honest Facebook Day” and this made me wonder what to confess. I’ve posted about my own kink and one-star book reviews and fights with Nik and birth control disasters and tolerating physical violence from a boyfriend for no good reason. I thought: what is left to tell? And then this came to me: Several months ago, my head had been itching like crazy and I had a rash all over the back of my neck. I tried medicated shampoos and anti-bacterial wash and calamine and aloe and finally I went to our local clinic. I said I had to be allergic to something and asked what I should do. This young Southern doctor looked at my head and told me: “You’ve got lahce.” Now, I *know* this particular affliction has nothing to do with the cleanliness of your home. I *know* it has nothing to do with personal hygiene. I don’t know why I was so sure it couldn’t happen to me. But I looked at this doctor and said, with complete confidence, in a tone of total dismissal: “I don’t have lice.” I had lice. And so did both my kids. Just as I don’t know why I thought it couldn’t happen to me, I don’t know why I was crushed to the core by this diagnosis. But I cried with mortification. I went to the store and I – I who have always flung tampons and condoms and all kinds of other dicey items onto conveyor belts without a twinge of self-consciousness – I could not meet the cashier’s eyes as I paid for three lice kits. So yeah. Somehow I never got around to posting about that.
Posted on: Sun, 21 Sep 2014 23:01:15 +0000