Allow me to introduce my arch-nemesis.
Yes, that is correct. I am plagued by spiky, scary-looking balls of mysterious composition.
Irritant, bastarding, invisible specks.
Its that time of year again. If you are one of those blessed individuals who does not and has never suffered from hayfever,
(or seasonal allergic rhinitis – my dramatic soul enjoys the more serious-sounding title)
Also, if you tell me that rubbing my eyes isn’t going to make them stop itching, I may very well punch you in the face.
If, like me, you are reading this through puffy, itchy eyes while sneezing approximately twelve times per minute – well, let’s just take a moment to feel sorry for ourselves, shall we?
Six Things I Hate About Hayfever
(in no particular order)
1. Itchy Eyes
Agh. Agh. AAAAGGGH. There is nothing like it. Constant and relentless. Try as you might, you WILL rub them. Just a little, you think. Just one teensy rub will definitely relieve this torture.
Just over halfway through June and already I have constantly swollen and bloodshot old-lady eyes.
2. Timing is Everything
We all know that the sun only ever shines in Ireland during exam season. This coincides nicely with Mr Hayfever, who shows up and unpacks his bags on June 1st and makes himself at home for the ensuing four to five weeks. For this time I am obliged to hide my puffy miserable face away indoors while everyone else goes to the beach and eats lots of ice cream. This feels similar to being allergic to presents at Christmas. By the time I emerge in early to mid July, the sun has taken his business elsewhere and everyone is settling into another eleven-month Rainy Season.
To quote the fabulous Demetri Martin in his masterful song, “Sames and Opposites”:
“Earrings are the same as sneezes: two is okay, but ten in a row is annoying.”
I don’t have particularly strong feelings on multiple piercings.
Constant sneezing is very annoying though.
4. Cosmetic Crises
Okay, this is a bit of a girly one. But I’ll admit it: I love my eyeliner. And my eyeshadow. And my mascara. And I hate hate HATE that for the month of June I’m forced to either just stop wearing it, or accept that at some point during the day/night it will end up smeared all over the top half of my puffy, inflamed face. This may be very amusing to my friends and family, but it is very upsetting for me and very frightening for small children.
5. I’m Not Contagious, I Swear!
I don’t blame them. I’ve probably done it myself. But I can feel people silently taking note of my sneeze-attacks and constant nose-blowing and trying to shuffle quietly away from me in order to avoid being infected with whatever pathogens I’m harbouring. It’s like (an extremely mild) form of leprosy.
6. Unpleasant Remedies
The only thing that comes close to easing my symptoms (for a little while at least) is a nasal spray that tastes like liquid grass when it hits the back of my throat. Eeeeww. Also, spraying mysterious liquids into one’s nose is generally not regarded as socially acceptable behaviour; so if a private place is not immediately available, emergency administration inevitably increases my leper-like status (see above).
So, to sum up…