Hypo-spotty

Ugghhh... It would seem that I'm just as big a hypochondriac as my dad and Robin. And that means that I will no longer be able to laugh mercilessly at their "old sports injuries" and "broken toes". Dang! I did so enjoy making fun of them. But now, alas, that will have to be a thing of the past.

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See, the other night, while I was painting butterflies and bumble bees, I suddenly got the itches. All over my body. The back of my legs, my arms, my stomach, even the tops of my feet were itching. When I investigated what was itching, I found little white blisters adorning my previously-creamy-white-skin. My immediate reaction was "Oh no! It's CHICKEN POX!" then a smile began brewing at the corners of my mouth as I imagined TWO WHOLE WEEKS of peace and quiet at home, preparing for our babies, getting the final thingies finished... So, with a spring in my step and an appropriately demure expression of imagined illness on my face, I waltzed into the doctor's rooms this morning loudly proclaiming the fact that I was, in fact, UNCLEAN! UNCLEAN! and oh so very contagious. In fact, I had to restrain myself from tying a handkerchief over my mouth and nose, so as to avoid spreading the voracious chicken pox germs to everyone I breathed upon. Imagine my disgust when my doctor took one look at my spots (which were REALLY THERE, by the way!) and said, "Oy, what are you stressing about, sweet lass?" and I replied disdainfully that I was "stressed about, like, um, having chickenpox!" As if it wasn't very obvious! Well, you could have blown me over with the fart of a feather when he said, "No, I'm sorry to burst your (chickenpox) bubble, but those aren't chickenpox spots... those are STRESS spots! You need to just relax!"

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Where have I heard that before???

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Dang. So, I've been prescribed a bunch of friggin expensive meds, sent back to work (no restful 2 week stint for me! sob!) and been duly instructed to just relax. As if that ever worked for me before.