It doesn’t fit with the narrative

You know how I shared that glowing post about my glorious weekend on the Northern Beaches? Well I neglected to mention one small/big thing.

Who wants to ruin a good story with a gory detail?

Anyways, the sea was quite rough on Saturday and Sunday, which churned up lots of seaweed and it would seem there were lots of sea lice clinging to that seaweed because I now look like I have a bad case of the chicken pox.

I am soooooooooooooo itchy and my torso is covered in big red lumps. I stood in front of the mirror yesterday dabbing at them with Calamine lotion, then turned around to do my back and was horrified to discover my butt looks like it has pimples all over it.

Very not sexy.

But it’s the itching that’s torturing me most. The Calamine lotion barely put a dent in it.

One of my workmates cheered me up (again very not) by reminding me about the kid last year who sparked the headline “Tiny ‘meat-loving’ marine creatures ‘eat’ teenager’s legs at Melbourne beach.”

Argh! And gory.

At least there’s no blood in my case. Just butt crack pimples.

Apparently the sea lice larvae get trapped under your swimsuit or rashie, which explains my gruesome torso. I can remember feeling one of them bite my boob in the surf, I rubbed at it in annoyance, didn’t think anything more about it, just kept larking about.

According to RACQ Living my skin could be blighted for up to two weeks. Apparently what I should have done is remove my swimwear as soon as possible after I felt the first bite. Then I was supposed to have a shower.

Guess what I did?

Sat around swigging cider in my lice-infested cossie. Eejit.

OK, I’m off now to slather myself in some cortisone cream to see if that helps.

Poor me.

Pictured: someone else’s (flat) belly covered in sea lice bites.

Song of the day: Malcolm McClaren “Buffalo Gals”

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