By Rhonda Hansome
“I’m very
sensitive.” That’s what a
gorgeous, tall drink of water murmured as he held my gaze in an intimate
embrace. Hmmm… a handsome, well
dressed, (did I mention tall?) sensitive man; who isn’t gay? My demure lady nether parts burbled a coquettish;
“Whoo hoo!!!” as I executed a perfect emotional swan dive into the limpid
chocolate pool of his eyes. It turns
out that pool was pretty shallow. But
no he didn’t lie. He was very sensitive
(which he clarified three weeks later) about his own needs! But My
Dear Reader* I digress…
I too am
sensitive. From the age of 5 to 11
(prime candy consuming years) if I ate chocolate, thought about eating chocolate,
or looked at someone indulging in the sensual revelry of a Hershey’s bar; I’d
have a life threatening asthma attack.
For those unfamiliar with asthma’s attack, think drowning without the
playful buoyancy of being surrounded by water. My asthma vigilantly skulked about my formative years and
single handedly, while oh so passive aggressively, halted (running, jumping,
squealing and) just about every exuberant, childhood activity with the simple
caveat, When You Can’t Breathe – You Die!
Thankfully I
out grew asthma’s vise grip but she left her daunting calling card, a residual
lifelong sensitivity to: cat dander (every really close friend of mine has
SEVERAL cats), arbitrary allergens (airborne 13 months of the year), bouts of hay
fever (striking whenever I don’t have a tissue nearby) and random bug bites
invariably producing a hideous bulbous swelling. That’s right Dear Reader at a moment’s notice, a bug bite gives
me 1st place win in the Quasimodo Look-Alike Competition. Which brings me to today’s blog.
A mosquito
bit me earlier this week. What for
any normal person would be an innocuous, albeit annoying violation of
epidermis; for me became an increasingly itchy, swelling, (infected looking?)
entity. It took up residence on my
left forearm and then with no discussion or warning subleased my under-eye
area!
Yes that’s
right. Barging into my incredibly busy, but perversely inverse ratio income
generating life an appearance altering health issue raised a truly, ugly
head. I’m clinging to the slippery
fringes of (ageist/sexist) show business as it is. Now I’m doing a weekend of shows on Long Island, with a
puffy eye, a gimpy arm and not a stitch of make-up on my face. Suffice it to say children and pit
bulls ran from me in terror. However,
the audience at the Bellmore, L.I. Brokerage Comedy Club, loved me. I attribute
it to the authentic looking, pre-Halloween scary clown mask they thought I was wearing… After the
second show Saturday and dead tired from the drive during which every quarter
mile, I checked the prodigious, non-stop growth of puffiness under my left-eye;
I finally arrived home at 2:00 AM. I set the alarm for 5:00 AM. Why? Because I still have to pack for my trip
that morning to L.A.!
Yes Dear
Reader, I wanted an hour or so of sleep before I leapt into my last minute packing
dervish. You’ve heard of “Beauty
Rest”? In a fitful 2 hour nap I
experienced the world’s first case of “Ugly Sleep.” The alarm rang and my mirror cracked with the image it
reflected. Under my left eye was
now a bloated, soft tissue condo threatening my eye with eviction. I threw a few things into a suitcase,
mostly the pre-bug bite “sensitive skin” make-up I’d blown a 100 bucks on so I
could delude myself I was worthy of walking among the preternaturally beautiful
women of tinsel town.
I got to a
nearby slaughter house - I mean hospital emergency room by 6:45. I don’t know why the sign said
EMERGENCY, since the intake clerk told me to take a seat and wait for (I kid
you not) EZ CARE to open at 7:30 AM. I waited and calculated just how late I would be for
my 10 o’clock ride to the airport.
Well the
doctor who drew the short straw and was on duty saw me and got me out of EZ
CARE with just enough time to be a half hour late for my 10 AM ride to the
airport. Clutching an industrial
size bottle of antibiotics, I made it through rush hour traffic, airport
security and onto the plane; where I sat for two hours waiting for tech support
to clear the aircraft. No problem.
It gave me plenty of time to
realize that I would be back in NYC before the 40 (generic, because that’s the
way I roll) Keflex antibiotics, would dismiss the swelling occupying my body.
Sitting on
the tarmac, I felt a disturbing resignation envelope me as I realized I’d be in
beautiful people L.A. with my scary clown mask face on display to new and old acquaintances
alike. With Halloween still days
away, what could this show biz
babe do? Don dark sunglasses and
wave the paparazzi away with a condescending, “No pictures please!!!”
*Will one of
you three folks make me a star already???
sorry about what u are enduring with the bites and the reaction to them. i predicted what the guy meant by sensitive. that is often how they mean it -- it rarely includes sensitive to those outside of them. well i haven't met every man on earth, but it seems so many just don't get it.
good wishes from one of the three. :-)
May I say that this blog post is a masterpiece! Truly, you can WRITE. (I guess it proves one must suffer for their art.) Brava, Rhonda! I'll have what you're having, pass the generic Keflex please...
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