Me, squealing: It's gross!!
Him: It's not. It's nothing.
Me: It's gross!!
Him: It's just a little parasite.
Me: Oh my God, it is not a parasite it's a fungus. Eewww!
Him: It's a parasite.
Me: Fungus! Like! Mushroom!
Him: Fine. It's a fungus. We'll save the flakes from your scalp and we'll put them on a pizza.
You know, it's one thing blogging about your child's ringworm.
It's quite another matter when it's your own.
I'm more than capable of giving myself a healthy case of the psychosomatic itchies. When they're accompanied by red lesions with a distinctive, raised ring around the borders, though... well, that's how I found myself driving home from my doctor's office today, shrieking and cursing to myself in an empty car. So I'm now the proud owner of anti-fungal shampoo and ointment, because I'm special and my case of ringworm happens to be on my scalp.
Not enough ick in the world to cover this.
Oh well, at least it's not impetigo.
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