Nothing made me sadder than the day I realized I was allergic to wool. If not allergic then a sensitivity so heightened it made me want to claw the skin from my body so…same/same.

It’s not so much that I loved wool in and of itself. I don’t think I actually owned much — well, maybe any? I might have had a sweater or something, I don’t actually remember. You know when I figured out wool made me break out? Not too long after I bought one of those long wool winter coats.

That was at a time when money was tight enough that spending a chunk on a “fancy” winter coat I could wear with dressier outfits was a big deal. It was long and navy blue and made me feel very grown up in some sort of way. I was so invested in my grown-up coat that I took a mind-over-matter stance on the whole itchy wool feeling.

I’d wrap a scarf around my neck to protect it from the wool collar. I’d only wear the coat when I was covered up, not in a v-neck or low collar shirt. At one point I thought okay, fine, I’ll be itchy but it’s only an hour, it’ll wear off. And yes, I hear how ridiculous all this sounds but y’all…I’d spent money on that coat, it was a hard hold to break. It took sheer force of will to donate that coat, man.

Is it a pain to read all the labels all the time? To put back that scarf or coat because it has even a teeny bit of wool in it? Yeah, it is, but I sure don’t miss the itchiness. There’s probably some sort of profound metaphor there for life or some such thing but it’s late, I’m tired, so let’s roll with it.

Linda hosts Stream of Consciousness Saturday. This week’s prompt is “wool.” Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!