The 17 Month Itch

We've all heard of the seven year itch - the psychological theory that suggests that happiness in a relationship declines during year seven of a marriage. But have you heard of the seventeen month itch? It's the prescence of a red, itchy, scaly ring of skin under one's wedding ring. The internet also calls it "wedding ring rash". If you have a weak stomach, do NOT google that. Take my word that it's gross.

Turns out that gold is really soft, so jewelers supplement it with nickel, a metal that 17% of the general population is allergic to. This number intrigued me, seeing as it is my favorite number and also the amount of time which I've been wearing my ring, so I did some research and it seems that 17% is not a terribly fortunate percentage. 17% represents the number of patients on a waiting list at the Mayo Clinic. 17% of Americans binge drink four or more times per month. 17% of Poland's population was killed in the Holocaust. 17% of ALL OF HUMANITY lacks basic access to clean water. You see my point? 17% is not a great category to be in. And yet I somehow managed to escape being in any of these statistics (arguably, at least), except one. I land in ONE 17% bracket, and it just had to be the one that included an intolerance to wearing sparkly things.

So apparently I'm allergic to marriage. Or at least to nice jewelry. Are you FREAKING kidding me?!? It took me until I was 26, and a looooooooong string of kissing frogs, to find someone I wanted to marry. Then it took another 9 months to get the ring, and 17 months later I'm ALLERGIC to it?!? Fan. Freaking. Tastic.

Never one to be told what to do, I decided that I was not going to give in. I refused to be a statistic. Mind over matter. "If I don't acknowledge it, it isn't really happening" logic. Don't knock it - pretending that I couldn't hear the adult who was telling me that it was time to get out of the pool ALWAYS bought me a solid extra five minutes of swimming when I was a kid.

So I ignored it. I was blessed with a man with great taste, so I have a GINORMOUS sparkly rock on my finger that conveniently covers up the area affected by an allergy that 17% of the human population can relate to. Looks like luck is finally turning my way. I'll just cover it up, pretend it isn't there, and divert my eyes away from the problem(aka "Operation: more pool time")when washing my hands.

Fast forward two weeks. I had my weekly hives breakout last night, prompting me to get drunk on antihistamines and pass out for 9.5 hours. When my alarm woke me from my Benadryl bender, I was terribly groggy and forgot to avert my eyes when I pried my ring off of my finger before getting in the shower. It may have been the drugs, but I'm 17% sure that my finger looked like a bloated, sunburnt lizard. An angry one.

I'm thinking that skin allergies don't really care about me giving them the silent treatment. Which is a shame for more than one reason. I'd try Benadryl again, but I think sleeping at work is frowned upon. (Blogging at work is fine). You win this round, red scaly finger.

Luckily, that husband with great taste started out as a boyfriend with great taste, and the sparkly necklace he bought me our first Christmas together just got a new sparkly pendant added to it until my finger stops pouting. Stay tuned for what's almost a certain future post, "How to tell your husband you broke your necklace that had your wedding ring on it."