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Snake Chain Silver Necklace
Good evening, all! It is some time since I shared words of wisdom with you, but I felt that today’s (slightly) painful lesson could serve as a warning to anyone who wears a neck decoration – i.e. a necklace – and in these days of freedom of expression, I know that this could apply to males and females, binary and non-binary, gendered and non-gendered, cats, dogs… have I left any group out?
I’m afraid that the main (slightly gross) subject of this post is more likely to apply to the more mature ones amongst us, although I don’t wish to make any sweeping generalisations – I am nothing if not inclusive.
So, what am I talking about? Skin tags! You know what I mean – those bumpy little growths that appear on your neck or upper arms with no warning whatsoever and, as you grow older, seem to multiply with a rapidity that is frightening. I’m sure that’s why I’ve put on weight over the years – not because I eat more and exercise less but because I am turning into a giant skin tag!
But what does this have to do with necklaces, I hear you cry? Well, I am about to explain. Let me set the scene:
You buy a rather pretty little necklace consisting of a little blue stone (aqua chalcedony, for those who are interested) set in silver and hanging on a silver chain. The chain is, I believe, what is sometimes called a ‘snake’ chain because of its style. Unfortunately, it’s also a style that gets caught up in your hair if it’s long enough – and my hair (once described as ‘fluffy’ by a young hairdresser) is exactly long enough. This is not necessarily a problem – you just undo the chain, snip the trapped hair off and Bob’s your uncle (or Gareth or Ian or George in my case). However, with age comes great wisdom and… skin tags!
If you are at all squeamish, I suggest you look away now. You know where this is going, don’t you?
Unfortunately, the hair and the chain somehow managed to get tangled up with a skin tag lying right in the chain’s path. Ouch! You make some effort to untangle them, but this is not an easy procedure when you are looking in the mirror trying not to stab yourself in the neck as you attempt to cut away the hair. You then hope that perhaps they’ll untangle themselves over the next day or so, but no…
Urgent Care Centre
You then wonder what else you can do – by the time you could get an appointment at the doctor’s, your head will be leaning at an angle as more and more hair becomes tangled up; going to the Urgent Care Centre will involve at least a four-hour wait (‘Urgent’ is a relative term), and going to A&E really isn’t an option at this stage – that’s for when your head is trapped at a strange angle by your hair, in a few weeks’ time. Brainwave! Try your local chemist! That was always the solution in the good old days before doctors were invented.
You explain to the nice young assistant (or very young pharmacist!) what the problem is, attracting the attention of the one other customer, whose head perks up when he hears you whisper, ‘I’ve got a bit of an embarrassing problem.’ You expect the assistant either to burst out laughing or to tell you to take yourself off to the (non-urgent) Urgent Centre, but she is incredibly sympathetic and takes you off to a little cubicle where she patiently and painstakingly snips away at the tangle until finally… voilà! You are free once more! She suggests putting a plaster on it and she hands you over to another assistant who manages to sell you not only plasters but antiseptic wipes, skin tag remover and some tissues and you walk out of the chemist’s feeling lighter both round your neck and in your purse!
And now I probably know why most older people keep their hair short! I shall ring the hairdresser tomorrow!