2nd Dose. Don’t Go Cryin’ To Your Mama. Or do.

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I’m listening to the “Catching Fire” soundtrack as I write this, so it seems only appropriate to post the classic JLaw meme. She gets it guys.

Since Saturday, I’ve had an ‘allergic reaction’ to almost everything. I’ve had ‘the flu,’ and there’s even been a slight possibility of stevens-johnson syndrome (don’t google it.)

In the physical world, (and not in the meri-go-round of crazy that is my head,) my left eye-lid is swollen and infected, and it’s taken me 4-days to get the eye drops I need. Given all of the scenarios that could arouse, I could care less.

In addition, it might surprise you, but it’s been a while since I’ve felt myself up. So, the other night in a leisurely bath (we’re in a drought CA, let’s try to save some water…) I was examining my two front friends, and discovered an unwelcome mass in the right one.

Chances are, it’s a harmless cyst, or a milk duct I’ve never felt before (who knows what’s really inside of those things!) The point is, I scheduled a check-up because I’m due for my annual trip to the box-doc, and now it’s out of my mind. C’MON, it’s like crack for a hypochondriac (of any gender,) yet I’m not stirred to plan for a double mastectomy just yet.

Imagined Threat > Real Threat. Every time.

ImageI’m twenty-six, rather independent and self-reliant (or at least I used to be,) but like clockwork, I called my mommy twice today. (I never call her that, it just seemed fitting.)

Yeah. Everyday. Almost everyday, I call my parents on the weaselly ledge of panic.

Image(This is EXACTLY how I don’t look during these phone calls.)

-1st call was during my afternoon break. I had eaten raw pumpkin seeds and then a Kind Bar (almonds, peanuts, sea salt, dark chocolate, YUM.) I was fine, but then I started feeling bumps in my mouth. I looked in the mirror and they looked like hives. WHAT? Over the phone, my dad tried to console me the best he knows how: By relaying information about the Olympic sporting event he was watching.

-2nd call was as I was leaving work and heading to Target to finally pick up my eye-drops. I was in the car, and a lump I’d felt in my throat earlier seemed to be ascending. Big deal! I was losing it. First I checked my purse to find my plexi-glass straw. Yeah.

You know those re-usable tumblers with the straws? Well, I nabbed a straw and keep it in my purse because in my mind, if my throat actually is closing, I could shove that down and preserve a tiny airway so I don’t go completely brain dead by the time I find myself at the ER. Brilliant, right? I’ll be that girl you read about on BuzzFeed who saved herself w/ a straw…

wrappedstrawsWell, like only a nice one can, good ol’ MomPants helped me rationalize that my throat strain was most likely a result of singing all day Sunday–something my frigid vocal chords aren’t quite used to just yet.

So, thoughts from what is pathetically a typical day.
-My job is getting in the way of being a hypochondriac.
-I feel really bad for people with food allergies–and even worse for people with Stevens-Johnson Syndrome. (Still, don’t google it.)
-Who deserves death threats from their immune system anyway?

2.10.14 – Go nuts.
This is how I imagine a party girl would take a selfie if she was afraid of biting it in the club. (Add a low-cut shirt and red lips, and maybe some kids doing lines) Image

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