Return of the Clown Whore

This weekend I came down with a debilitating cold/fever combo that had me literally speaking gibberish at one point. I downed a Jamba Juice Coldbuster shake and a couple of those Odwalla Vitamin-C Explosion drinks. Took some Nyquil, slept 18 hours, and busted that cold much faster than I expected to. Nice.

Then Monday morning rolled around and I found myself with disgusting, itchy, chappy lips and a red ring around my mouth, giving me the look of a "Clown Whore."

I knew that look all too well, as this has happened to me twice before in my life. The first was a week or so after hooking up with a strange girl for the first time, and I thought for sure I had the herpes. I walked the streets of New York in a daze for an entire week, certain that I was going to have to live out my days popping Valtrex and starting dates with the words, "Before we go any further, I've got something to tell you…"

After an extremely uncomfortable week of hiding my face at work, the condition went away. I got tested, learned that I was in the clear groin-wise, and breathed a sigh of relief. But what the hell had been up with my lips?

Cut to a year later. Woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, same deal. Enough time had passed that, again, I went into an extreme STD panic. I didn't have health insurance at that point, so I did some internet searching and found that my symptoms indicated an allergic reaction. I thought back, what had I eaten out of the ordinary? I was poor, and all I really ate at the time was soup and cereal, so it was easy to pinpoint the offender:

A rogue mango.

When I thought long and hard about it, I realized I'd only enjoyed mango twice in my life, and the other time had been the day before the previous attack. So - boom - I learned that to avoid the "Clown Whore" syndrome, I had to avoid the mango. A sensual, delicious fruit to be sure, but I could live with that.

I hadn't eaten mango since, so why was I breaking out this week? Aha! The juices! I grabbed the Vitamin C bottle out of the trash, and sure enough, lotta mango. Whole lotta mango. I hated myself, but at least I knew what had caused it, so I knew not to panic. Since I am again without insurance, I picked up some ointment, and that helped somewhat.

Further research taught me that this disgusting lip condition actually has a cute little name: Merpes. Mango + Herpes = Merpes. (If you're science-minded, you can read more in this article: "Hooray! It's Not Herpes!" ). I also learned that the mango has a whole lot in common with poison ivy! It can spread the same way, and in fact, the body can even mistake mango for the vile weed. (If you're science-minded, you can read more in this article: "The Mango That Thought it Was Poison Ivy" ). Now, I am highly, HIGHLY allergic to poison ivy. I got some cases in grade school that had me looking like Jeff Goldblum in The Fly. I used to wear turtlenecks in the summer I was so ashamed by the bubbling and mutating that went on with my skin during an outbreak. My lifelong friend Ryan told me one day at recess that people were saying I had crabs. I was in the fifth grade!

My research led to an even more disturbing discovery. In some cases, the rash can spread across the entire body. And here's the kicker: as the mango passes through the digestive tract, it can even affect…the pooper! Gross, right? But in all my past mango experiences, the rash had never gone past my lips. I wasn't too concerned.

I should have been concerned. Oh my Lord, should I have been concerned.

Tuesday I woke up with a general feeling of extreme itchiness. I was dreading looking in the mirror. I walked into the bathroom and took a peek. Some spots of red, but nothing I couldn't deal with. But then I took down the boxers. Friends, I feel I know you well enough to share this with you. My dick and balls were glowing red. Like, really. Glowing. I nearly screamed in the bathroom. It itched so horribly that I almost didn't notice the itching elsewhere on my body. And it was everywhere. Everywhere. Let's just say…the mango passed through my digestive tract. And let's just say...it's in there. 'Round back. Yeah. In there. 

I've been walking around the office like John Wayne.

Today I woke up and the rash was all over my right arm, my waist, and my armpits -- although curiously not in the spots I put deodorant. Could covering my body in deodorant have warded this off? I don't know, but I have never known itchiness like this. You remember the last time you got a really bad mosquito bite? How you just wanted to scratch it until it bled? Imagine thousands of tiny ones, all over your body. Including the exact spot where your pants hit your waist, all over your genitals, and...inside your ass.

But hey, my lips aren't chapped anymore! Guess every cloud has a silver lining.