Your love is like a fungus

Is it a sign from the relationship gods that I have a fungus growing under my wedding ring? Well, correction: my engagement ring. I never wear my wedding ring. The engagement ring is too sweet by itself. But now it’s a little less sweet since it’s giving me an itchy, red, peeling rash. I took it off a few weeks ago to let the thing heal. It took more than a week. I left it off for another week. I thought maybe it was contact dermatitis and that washing the band would take care of it. Nope. Two days on and it’s red, peeling, and itchy again.

So, aside from dunking the ring in jockitch cream, what do I do? Is the platinum making the point that Spouse is a louse? Is it conspiring to suggest that now, after the move back home, I should ditch the ring as either symbol or reality? Is my finger trying to get out of this marriage? Don’t you think someone in a bar, where I spend all my copious free time, would notice the red and scaly patch where a ring used to be? Forget tan lines: athlete’s foot is the mark of a really well worn band.

Am I allergic to my Spouse? Or just symbols of his (metaphorically) perpetually cloying love? Is a foul fungus growing in my marriage? Do I need some lessons in hygeine? Will Tiffany’s delouse a jewelry collection, when I come in for its antifungal treament? Is that included in the purchase price?

How lame to go to a doctor to ask for assistance in clearing up a ring around my finger. Um, lady, red and flaky is the new platinum. Go with it.

1.) Gross!  2.) What the?  3.) How the? 4.) Why the? 5.) Go the f— away! 6.) Gross!

4 thoughts on “Your love is like a fungus

  1. That is, hands down, one of the best blog titles ever.

    I stopped wearing my rings after the girls were born because I constantly nicked them with it while attempting to change their diapers or clothes. And now, my hands are always so dry from constant washing that if I leave my rings on they’d be covered in lotion. Also gross.

    But wouldn’t inspire as grand a post as this one…

  2. Well, metal has been fine for more than five years. Man has wavered between sunlight and thorn for more than nine. So I’m going with “caught something in the shower at the Y”?

    Or my soul is starting to crawl out through my skin, and it glimpsed light beneath the tiny row of diamonds?

    Or the last bit of sanity is leaking out of my left hand because it knows the fastest way out is through the bit gripping the computer mouse?

  3. LOL I love your comments. They’re nearly better than your post.
    I FINALLY was able to take off my engagement ring, which was so bad I couldn’t take it off with my last pregnancy. It turns out I have tiny red “waiste” where the ring was. Nice.

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