“Oh girl, you don’t have a nickel allergy…THIS is a nickel allergy,” she said, revealing her upper arm, the skin lined with light purple marks as if Picasso himself had taken to her skin. “Oh my!” I replied, uncertain as to how to react when a person reveals a glaring body part in a fine jewelry store…
I had wandered into one of Kansas City’s upscale retailers in a quest to discover my options for a recurring reaction I’d been having to my wedding rings. Not my fabulous antique ring, the cheapy stuff I sling on everyday or my “Lawson” necklace, but just my three left finger haunts. Which was an uber bummer as a) I was potentially allergic to the hubs and this thing called marriage b) sparkles are my thing…I can’t go tromping around without them c) Beyonce may suggest to put a ring on it, but we can’t afford to put on a platinum one. So you see, a girl just can’t win. And call me old-fashioned, but I still feel just the teensiest bit unsettled when I walk around with a toddler on my hip without one. Because people judge and dangit, I’m exhausted with that plenty throughout the day, I don’t need to add this to the list.
Then, the magic piece of advice was swapped: just boil it. Take the rings, throw them on the stove, and boil them like a pot of spaghetti. Then, when the water cools (she must’ve had a client in the past who went for the deep dive while still hot)…grab them out and try sporting them around again. Given that your skin is healed when you attempt this, the chemical-burn type reaction should no longer be a literal pain in your finger.
And you know what? It worked!
So thank you, dear jewelry sales expert. Perhaps I should send you monetary compensation equivalent to what I’ve now paid my dermatologist and local Targets for creams, cleaners and more. Because I owe ya one, I really do. Though now I must admit I’m a bit bummed that this little dreamer will no longer be mine…
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