Even as I did it, I knew I shouldn’t. There was that nagging voice in the back of my mind telling me I should not be walking through the woods in a pair of shorts. But I did it anyway and now I’m paying the price. (My family I am sure already knows what I’m talking about.) In a way, it’s strangly comforting. It’s nice to know that as much as I’ve changed in some ways, there are some things about me that will always be the same. My suseptability to poison oak is one of them. It’s the only thing I’m allergic to, a trait I share with my cousin Joey. “The family who itches together, stays together.” But don’t worry, I’m not scratching, It’s driving me batty, but I’m not scratching.
Over the years, I’ve had several small cases such as this one, it’s only on my leg and it will pass. The last time I got a bad case, I was sixteen years old. We lived out in the countryside and my mom assigned my younger sister, who can walk through poison oak and be fine by the way, and I the chore of pulling all the little tree saplings that had sprung up over the summer. So there we are, pulling and hacking away, weeks before I am to start my senior year. When we were done, I came inside and changed clothes not thinking anything of it. Unfortunately, the poison was on my shirt and as I pulled it over my head, the poison attached itself to my chest, neck, and face. I was miserable. While working at the school’s library before school started, I had all the teachers asking me what had happened as I sat there with my calomine lotion and wet rag. My senior pictures were post poned for several weeks as I healed but that didn’t stop the photo for my school I.D. I look like a bright red bing cherry in a striped shirt. The upside to the whole episode was that my mom felt so bad, she never asked me to do an outside chore… ever again. I doubt I’m going to get out of anything with this one.