The following winter, sporadic hives would appear if my bare hands touched the snow or, weirder yet, if I held cold items in the frozen-food section of the supermarket. Although there was a pattern forming, it didn't really make sense, and for the most part, I just shrugged it off. This stage wouldn't last for long.
Living with a mystery allergy is no fun as a kid
Shit hit the fan at my sixth-grade class pool party. Wanting to join my friends to get pizza, I climbed out of the water, and time seemed to freeze. Kids and teachers stared at my body, which was covered head to toe in blotchy welts.
A hysterical mother chaperone, Ms. L, nearly went into a conniption, fearing I was contagious -- she didn't spare me shame, either, separating me from the group, warning all the other kids not to come near me, and calling my mother to have me picked up immediately.