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Archive for March 23rd, 2011

Things They Don’t Make Like They Used To: Band Aids

Wednesday, March 23rd, 2011
By Glinda

Oh, or in case I’m pulling a “Xerox,” adhesive bandages.

A couple of days ago, I rather stupidly grated the top part of my finger along with the block of medium cheddar cheese.  Note to self, next time you get close to the end of the block, just throw the damn thing out instead of trying to get every last shred out of it! 

Anyhoo, I wound up needed to put a bandage on that sucker because it just would not stop bleeding. 

After dinner I washed my hands, and what do you know, the bandage practically leaped off my finger.  Cursing the fact that my husband had seen fit to buy a cheap drugstore brand, off I went in search of the good stuff.

Good stuff, applied. 

Washed my face before going to bed.  Needed another freaking bandage.

The next day I went through no fewer than six bandages, all of them committing hara kiri when I even so much as waved my hands in the direction of the sink.

As a kid, I remember having bandages applied to my skinned knees and actually dreading the moment I would have to rip it off.  Unless it was reeaallly bad, I wouldn’t even want a bandage.  Because back in the day, the bandages literally became one with your skin.  Your cut would be totally healed and yet days later, extreme measures still had to be taken to get the bandage off.  

 The best place to bring the pain was the bathtub after you’d been in it for a while.  Then, with your knee submerged, you would start to rip off one corner, and then yelp in pain.  You knew you needed to just do it in one grand swoop, as your mother would remind you, but the pain of doing so was enough to almost make you pass out.  Then, after much grimacing and the dramatic sucking in of air through teeth, you finally managed to remove it, along with the top three layers of epidermis. Then you would also have to deal with some of the little dark adhesive nubs (for lack of a better word) that refused to come off, unless you were willing to apply some elbow grease and alcohol.  Which I never was. 

Am I remembering things correctly, my friends?  Were band aids indeed super-glued to your skin in the good old days?

Or have I stumbled off Memory Lane and onto Delusional Drive?

Disclaimer: Manolo the Shoeblogger is not Manolo Blahnik
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