Male Vanity at its Best: Conquering a Five-Day Itch

Ever had a physical thing so powerful that you just can't reason your way around it? You know, when one part of your body just cries out to be touched and scratched and it doesn't matter what you scratch it with or how. Yes, that sensation whatever it is you're thinking of. What if you have it plus heat all over your body for days?

A confession is needed here. Every now and then I allow myself to harbor a suspicion that men are more apt to give in to physical needs. When men want touch, they touch (at least in my culture, men gets to do the first move). Now I'm not sure anymore. My eight-turning-nine-year-old boy, J, has proven otherwise. He showed me a powerful version of male vanity and self-control. (Forgive the initials but soon, in another post on paranoia, I will explain.)


(Warning: Two pictures of the blisters are available ahead)

The Pox Attack

“I have the pox” was the shortest post I have written about myself in 43 years.  By post, I mean literally putting a note on the wall to say exactly what I feel or what is happening to me. After another attack of blogger’s block this weekend, I am now going to write something off my own diary. Let me tell you about the time the chicken pox got me.  Not much for five minutes of reading time but, believe me, getting the pox as a young adult is a different story.