#chapped nose

You may also be a nose aficionado- so you know the drill. There’s a terrible cold involved…2 large dilating nostrils to manage the oncoming eruption; the type where you can see easily into the sinus. It’s sore, well blown and chapped …and because our sneezer might be fair skinned (though hardly a requirement) the nose is particularly red. The sneeze explodes loudly into a small tissue remnant that can barely hold such a grand schnozole. Our sneezer taps both nostrils softly- notes the redness and pain and decides to blow …hard. Yes, it’s The kind of cold and big nose where the tissue just doesn’t stand a chance.

Think big noses- like Barbara Streisand Sarah Michelle Geller and joely Richardson.

BUT I HAVE HAD A BREAKTHROUGH!!! SWEET, BLESSED RELIEF, BATMAN!!!

After trying many gentle things that seemed entirely innocuous but burned like fire ants, I had an epiphany! I swear, this usn't an ad. Just me, hoping to spare some of you dear ones much pain, using something you may already have in your medicine cabinet/first aid kit:

From my seat in front of her, I could hear her sneeze. It was a new sound to me—somehow striking, almost beautiful, though also deeply sad. I felt bad for her.

When I turned around and mouthed, “Are you OK?” she shook her head and gave a clear no, tapping her left nostril with her finger. Things had clearly taken a turn. She’d stopped using tissues and moved on to the rough brown paper towels from the rest room. Then came another sneeze—and a loud, wet blow, thick, goopy - nasal viscosity only a cold will produce.

I watched as she took out her Afrin bottle, tilted her head back, and gave each nostril two long, desperate sniffles. Some relief followed—or at least enough to get her through the next class.

The day dragged on. If sneezing and blowing your nose in front of your college mates wasn’t bad enough, Julie still had to sit through our college government assembly. I turned around again and said, “I can’t believe you’re still here. Please, just go home and rest.” The room was silent and her sniffles were audible to all. Then the sneeze into her wet paper towel. And another and the masking of a wet blow to follow. Her nose was now entirely red form her lip to bridge on both side. Poor thing. But as bad as I felt - my arousal was clear for anyone who might care to see. I guess no one ever seemed surprised by tight pants back then - let alone the obvious swelling there in. Another sneeze and I whispered. “Health Ctr time, maybe?” She whispered back. “I literally haven’t stopped blowing since I saw you this am. Still think the nose is cute?” Oh yes I certainly did!

She smiled weakly and said my favorite line: “It’s just a cold in the nose.” Then another nostril tap, a half-stifled sneeze, and a soggy wipe with one of those brown paper towels.

The day eventually ended, and so did the worst of Julie’s cold—she stayed home for three days to recover.

She came back on Friday—surprisingly, not taking the extra day for the weekend. Her nose was dry and chapped, and she still spoke through the congestion, though the constant running had stopped. The sneezing had slowed, and she now carried a little cream to soothe the raw skin around her nostrils.

That first cold, that first sneeze—somehow, those memories have stayed with me for life. They stirred something in me, something I didn’t fully understand then.

Of course, by the next week, I had my own cold—earned, I suppose, from a few too many of her passed-off, snot-soaked tissues.

Was it worth it? The sneezing, the late-night nose care, the stuffiness?