There are two types of people in this world: those whom mosquitoes consider an all-you-can-eat buffet and those whom mosquitoes find repugnant.
I have a body that mosquitos love. I suppose it is nice to think your physical being is still attractive at this age, even if it is to insects.
I only became a mosquito magnet two years ago. Prior to that they’d loop me once or twice, then beeline for a better smorgasbord. I used to think the people mosquitos feasted on complained excessively.
Now that I have become one of those people, I think such people are brave and strong and admirable. Mosquito magnets unite!
For the past four nights, I’ve awakened with my ankles itching madly from mosquito bites. We have grands that scratch mosquito bites until they bleed. If I thought that would stop the itching, I’d do it.
I stagger from bed and begin hunting for the After-Bite, hydrocortisone and Benadryl topical cream. It’s a “hit ‘em with all you got” approach. It helps. For about 10 minutes.
Recently, I attended an outdoor event and made the mistake of wearing strappy sandals. The mosquitoes went for the bottom of my feet. I tried scrataching the bottom of one foot with the shoe on my other foot. I glanced around and realized everyone could see everyone else’s feet under the tables. I was the only one playing footsies with myself.
I saw a slab of concrete and thought if I could just drag the bottom of my foot across it, the itch would settle down. It was a possibility without opportunity.
A Pfizer study found that mosquitoes are drawn to three types of people who have a high metabolic rate and emit more carbon dioxide: those who are pregnant, working out, or drinking alcohol.
My last pregnancy was 38 years ago. I drink alcohol about once a year. I do work out. Wouldn’t it be something if mosquitoes forced me to quit working out? Oh well. A woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do.
Yesterday, two mosquitoes followed me inside. I have a touch-screen laptop where you can trigger functions by simply touching icons on the screen. One of the mosquitoes landed on the screen. I tried to smash it with my finger and accidentally sent some financial records to the trash.
The mosquitoes high-fived each other and laughed.
“We’ll see who’s laughing when I quit working out!” I yelled.
In the meantime, I’m covering every inch of skin, wearing long pants, a long- sleeved shirt with the collar pulled up around my neck, socks, tennis shoes and a hat. I have sprayed one kind of insect repellant on my skin and another on my clothes. I smell like a tiki torch and look like one, too.
My husband just asked where I was going.
“Outside,” I said.
“Feeding the mosquitoes again, eh?”