So, about chicken...

I have these blue gloves.  They're disposable.  We used them when we were painting the house, and there were so many that now there is just an endless supply in my cabinet.  I use them for cleaning or changing particularly foul diapers.  That doesn't seem to raise eyebrows.  

But you want to know what does?

This:

I'm not sure when it happened because I haven't always been this way, but chicken freaks me out.  

When I was younger, I'd cook with chicken, and it didn't bother me to touch it.  I'd just wash my hands when I was done.

Eventually, it got to where I'd wash my hands (literally) before I'd touch anything after I'd touched chicken (not just immediately after touching it - but throughout the entire prep of the meal after I'd after already washed my hands immediately after handling it) and then scrub down my entire kitchen with disinfectant when I was done.

Then it got to the point where I'd hover like a crazy person when anyone else was touching chicken and make them wash their hands 48,000 times and I'd wipe down every surface behind them.

At some juncture, I began involving a fork.  I could no longer stomach touching it.  I still washed my hands incessantly and scrubbed every surface in the kitchen afterward, but I'd use a fork to, say, dredge chicken I planned to fry through the battering process.

Now, I am accustom to this, and I am accustom to people making fun of me for it (I'M KEEPING YOU ALL FROM GETTING SICK - YOU'RE WELCOME!!!).  Here's the thing though, I have severe eczema, and all my insane hand washing (for it's not just chicken, I wash and sanitize my hands obsessively now - I didn't used to do that.  I mean, I washed my hands but not like this) keeps my hands cracked and bleeding.  Between my cell phone and money and my germy kids and food prep and door handles and key pads - I wash my hands, wipe them down with wet wipes, or use hand sanitizer an exorbitant number of times every day (OMG, MY HEAD MAY EXPLODE THINKING ABOUT IT!) I have special extra strength skin ointment from the dermatologist that can't even keep it under control now.

Plus, using a fork when you're making foil packets for, like, 12 pieces of chicken slows things down.

So, gloves.  Now I use gloves if I have to touch meat.  I use them, touch the meat, throw them away, sanitize everything, and then take out the trash...and wash my hands again because I had to touch the trash.

Yes, I'm sure it has something to do with my anxiety disorder, but this is one of those areas that I'm okay with being a nut case.  I don't want to change it, but I don't want it to get worse either.  It feels like a very slippery slope between where I am now and a place I do not want to live in my head.

I don't know why I wanted to share this.  I just find it odd the way this has evolved and have wanted to write about it for a while.

So, now that's done.  I'm going to go wash my hands.  :/