megfowler.com

Hey! Hi! How are you?

Good?

Oh, awesome.

I’m so glad YOU’RE doing well, BECAUSE MY FACE IS ABOUT TO EXPLODE.

Okay, not really, but it’s a tightrope of medication and obscure routine I’m walking on a daily basis, trying desperately to avoid giant puffball eyes and the sensation of needles stabling at my nose and the Cleveland Dam of post-nasal drip.

Reactine? Check.

Claritin? Check.

Both “extra strength”? Oh baby, yes.

Advil Cold and Sinus Plus? As needed.

Handfuls of vitamins? Check.

Enough water to leave me permanently tethered to the bathroom? Check.

Weird nasal spray that leaves the inside of my nose feeling like I coated it with non-stick cooking spray? Check.

Sore neck from sleeping at an exact 48.7 degree angle? Woo!

I feel like I should just become the Writer in the Bubble and be done with it (can you have conjugal bubble visits?)

I’ve had you since I was barely into my teens, allergies, and I’m definitely getting tired of the routine.

While I’m thankful that you didn’t choose me to be allergic to the always sneaky Peanut or the red and deadly Strawberry or even the vague and threatening Pets, I’m not sure that you needed to give me a reaction to EVERY DAMN PLANT THAT GROWS ANYWHERE AT ANY TIME, FOR ANY REASON.

And mold. Because heaven knows, Vancouver doesn’t have ANY of that.

I know things could be much worse. Instead of looking like someone punched me repeatedly in the face, I could have my tongue swell up and strangle me. Instead of constantly having to have a Kleenex in hand to mop my face, I could have crazy hives shaped like West Virginia all over my back.

Or, you know, I could die.

But these allergies aren’t about to kill me anytime soon, I know (unless I somehow DO get non-stick cooking spray in my nasal passages.)

That doesn’t mean I enjoy seeing through tiny slits in my face, or sounding like Alfalfa.

If you could lay off a little this week, that would be AMAZING.

Or, you know, try not causing my nose to drip on my own shirt while I sit next to Attractive Bald Guy on the bus.

Again, that is.

Thanks so much,

Meg