When You’re Scratchy

Hi folks. How have you been? I hope well. In fact, I hope your dial has gone far enough past well to put you into the fantastic land. Because who doesn’t want to be fantastic? Me, I’ve been fine. Could have been finer, but could have also been lots worse, so I’m not complaining. I have, however, been more scratchy than usual.

In case you are wondering, it isn’t uncommon for me to be scratchy.

I have really dry skin on my hands. The kind of really dry skin where I could come in  handy if anyone needs any sanding done. (I’ve written about this before and things haven’t really improved much.)

So last night was curriculum night at Biggest’s middle school. I’m a believer in giving a solid handshake when meeting other folks, so I shook several hands while we were meeting his teachers. And then I got home and realized for the millionth time that my grip is currently a bit like getting a hug from a pinecone.

Sigh.

I also realized that while the palms of my hands were nasty, scratchy caricatures of normal hands, the tops of my hands were another variety of scratchy.

Yep, the hives are back. And there I was, unconsciously scratching the backs of my hands and forearms.

The handy part is that I don’t have to use my nails to really scratch well; all I need to do to give a good scratch is rub my palm across the itchy spot.

You know, perhaps it’s time I stop thinking of my skin as a flaw. After all, I could market myself as a “natural scratcher” and probably make a mint from those folks who go have fish exfoliate their feet. It’s all about the spin, right???

Hey, when you’re scratchy, you need to find a way to make the best of things. Especially since nobody is going to be holding your hand anytime soon.

Be well people. Be well. Until next time…

ps. If you ever meet me while I’m on vacation, my hands will likely be fairly smooth. It only takes about 20 hours for my skin to calm down and act normal. Too weird, eh?

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3 thoughts on “When You’re Scratchy

  1. I go through periods where my hands get to the peeling stage. It’s kind of annoying. At one point, while I was between wife #1 and current DW, my own daughter, who was about sixteen at the time(wow, that was 17 years ago) told me: “Yeah, so if you ever want to get to play with girls again, you’re gonna have to start taking care of your hands, Daddy.”

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