Oink Oink

Okay, okay, I don't have the flu. I think the last time I had the flu Kurt Cobain was still alive.

I have the remnants of a cold that has knocked me a bit askew for the past few days -- you know the kind, you wake up in the morning with what you think is enough energy to get through the day, and by about 4 o'clock, you have faded completely into some kind of stoner daze and can only stare blankly at anyone who comes to you with a question. I never think of myself as particularly high-energy until I have a cold and people actually comment on my appearance. I wear sniffles like Aaron Neville's wen, I guess -- all the foundation, mascara and blusher in the world won't hide it.

I'm not a chemical medicator. It rarely occurs to me to dose myself with any of the OTC-aisle thingy-doos, except for the occasional Tylenol PM when my knee really, really hurts (which is less frequent these days since I've lost a few pounds). I guess I just...forget. It literally doesn't occur to me to scour the aisles of Duane Reade for some palliative at the first sign of the sniffles. I just buy a box of Kleenex and get on with my life. I've had the same box of Dayquil on my shelf for three years, mostly unused. Guess I should throw them out, huh?

I tend to tough things out, because I know they will pass in their time. Maybe because I'm not one of those delicate flowers prone to catching every random germ that is flying around, or maybe because I can still hear my mother's voice, "If you're too sick to go to school, you're too sick to go to that skating party!"

I dunno -- I attribute my vulgar good health to growing up in a generation whose mothers drank and smoked their way through our pregnancies (okay, not my mom, who never touched a drop of alcohol or a cigarette in her life) and let us eat potato salad at family picnics that had been sitting out for five hours. We played in the dirt in our bare feet, fell off our bikes and continued playing for hours with open, bloody scrapes, ate french fries that fell on the floor of the car, and shared soda from the same straw. Our immune systems had no choice but to grow hearty.

My advice to mothers of today -- throw away your Purell and Clorox wipes. Let your kid eat a few germs, quit giving them antibiotics for every ear ache, and maybe they'll be healthier in the long run.