Atophy is a real pain in the arse. I've never had an atophy on my arse which is something I am very grateful for however I've had my fair share on other parts of the body. If I did have an atophy on my arse it would give me an excuse to drag myself along carpet on my bottom like a dog with worms which is something I've always wanted to do so it wouldn't be all bad. I have no problem doing something odd and threatening as long as you have a good reason for doing it. When I get an itchy throat I stick the index finger of my left hand in my left ear and jiggle it, scratch my head with my right hand and make a 'quoaaaaaarrrrrrr' sound from deep down in my gullet that sounds like a bit like the noise the Skeksis made in 'The Dark Crystal'. This video doesn't really give you much of an indication but it's still very funny and will hopefully bring back happy memories to those of you who still remember 1982.
I've had the old standard allergic reactions eczema and asthma since I was born. These two seem to go hand in hand to torment the world, like Foster and Allen, Hall and Oates and Country and Western. Luckily I've largely grown out of both. When I was young I would only have to enter a room that a cat had even thought about walking in and my extremities would puff up, my eyes would water and I would start wheezing. I would turn into an old crying wino who had smoked 40 fags a day before your eyes and then the cat who had thought about coming into the room would come in and sit on my face to show how sorry they were for causing my distress. What was and is even more distressing is that I love cats. I love dogs as well but they never seemed to be as much of a catalyst for my afflictions as cats. I could give you a list a cats that were catalysts purely to milk the pun but it's not worth the effort.
Being allergic to things one really likes is cruel and you start to wonder if your body is just taking the piss. I'm certain my hypersensitive immune system had a choice in what things would make it start activating my mast cells and basophilis so had a quick sniff in my brain to discover the things that would cause me the greatest distress and found cats, weet-bix and beer. Thank god I hadn't discovered my affection for KFC when I was young or my life would not be worth living. I'm not strictly allergic to beer but I am allergic to wheat which rules out some beers and all weet-bix. Giving up weet-bix was really hard. I had continued the long Cooper tradition of covering your dry weet-bix with just enough boiling water to moisten and soften them before pouring milk on top to create a nice wee warm milky puddle at the base before covering generously with sugar. Heaven! No bloody more though. Thanks to my immune system a family tradition that has strectched back hundreds of years to when my ancestors were making barrels for Vikings to put the fermented blood of their victims in has died.
I'm also allergic to bloody dairy products as well. Milk and cheese and wheat and cats and dogs and some beer...if I was Julie Andrews these would be nearly all of my favourite things. I found out I was allergic to dairy and wheat when a chiropractor put little samples of them on my tongue while I was lying on my back and then tried to press my left arm down. With all the other food samples...brussel sprouts, swede, rancid olives, affogatos I could resist his pressings with vigour however when the cheese and wheat were applied I gave way like John Key. I still don't understand why my lack of shoulder resistance meant that wheat would make me go red and scratch my inner arm and leg however my parents were paying an arm and a leg to find this out so no questions were asked.
A few years ago hay-fever decided to join the party, probably because my immune system was angry about having grown out of most of my asthma and eczema. I usually only get hay-fever when I go to Christchurch so I'm probably allergic to Christchurch as well.
Anyway, at the moment my nose is blocked and my asthma is playing up. I have two inhalers for asthma, one is red and one is blue. If I use the red inhaler, the preventative, I never learn the truth about the world of asthma and saunter oblivious through my life breathing freely. If I need to use the blue inhaler it means I am naked in a liquid filled pod with tubes coming out of every orifice feeding me ventolin. I've been using the blue inhaler a bit recently and my holes are getting sore so perhaps I do have an atophy on my arse. I'm hoping it's just adjusting to being back in Auckland, the humidity and change of season. It could also have something to do with a cat. Miss Charlie, or puss puss is a British Blue short-hair. She is gorgeous and naughty and likes to run with toilet paper. If she is responsible for my allergic flare-up I don't care. Anything this cute sitting on your lap is worth it.
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