What's With the Gloves?

I suppose the question is inevitable when you're the weirdo wearing fingerless gloves indoors.

I went to an event last month, sat down at a table full of semi-acquaintances and within minutes the least discerning of the group looks at me and says, "what's with the gloves?"

"My hands get cold."

I receive blank stares from my dinner mates and the conversation awkwardly continues in a non-outerwear direction. Fifteen minutes later the food arrives and I remove my gloves to eat. My new friend blurts out, "what's wrong with your hand?"

I wish I knew. Boy, do I ever... I wish my skin didn't break out at the mere mention of dish soap. I wish people didn't spray febreeze around like they're macing a rapist in a dark alley. I wish that I could still shake hands or return hugs without worrying about getting infected, but alas, the world is covered in poison. So yes, my hands look like something out of a zombie horror film. I'm well aware of this. You don't need to point it out.

"Eczema," I mumble as I try to discretely slip my gloves back on and finish my meal.

I'm already an incredibly self conscious person and every time that someone draws attention to my gloves, my heart breaks a little. How I wish that I could leave the house without them--that I could be a normal person again instead of this weirdo who can't touch anything or anybody. But I can't. This is who I am now. I'm the girl who carries around her own hand soap. I'm the girl who can't go into a room if it's been painted in the last month. I'm the girl who wears her fingerless gloves indoors.

So what is with the gloves? It's more than just eczema. I have allergic contact dermatitis (ACD) and the gloves help to protect me from allergens and serve to hide my reactions when the allergens find me anyway. It's awful and painful and some days I hate to even leave the house. One day I'll get my skin under control--I'll figure out what's making me tick and how to avoid it--but until then, the gloves stay. Please stop asking about them.

Thank God it's the middle of a frigid Wisconsin winter. I'm not sure what I'm going to do come summer. Probably switch to a hand brace so that people can start asking me how I injured myself.

"Oh this? I sprained my wrist punching the last guy who asked me about my gloves."