Swedes and the Like.

They're hard plastic. I stare at them for a minute. The bands look more suitable to hold a cereal bag shut than pull around my head. I press them into my eyes and I realize they won't stay on with just a gentle balance on my face. I mash them into my face until I feel the air siphon out of them. Everything on the inside is orange, an interesting color. After about a set I decide to take them off; big mistake.

Recently I have been trying a new type of goggles that are called Swedish goggles, or "Swedes" for short. My mother thought I should try them because she and Dr. Steroid are convinced that the rubber around the goggles I used to wear was giving me an allergic reaction. Swedes are unique because they have no form rubber on them. They are hard plastic all the way through besides the elastic that holds them to your head. I went back to the Dr. to have the blemishes re-examined and he immediately bombarded me with creams and jellies to rub all over the place. "Take this twice for one day and then start taking trienfemosine twice a day for three days, and then slather yourself in endoformtinadel until it goes away." That is how I feel when I enter his office. I know he wants to help me, but I do feel a little bit like I'm being used with all of these things I'm supposed to rub on my face. I would rather just leave it alone than put all this crap on myself.

So back to Swedes. The best part about them at the time was probably the very low cost of 4 dollars a pair. I looked at the package and noticed that the first set of instructions were in Swedish, and the second set were English. I tried the first sentence, "1. Der seisen gugle conetsicne vert centei." My eyebrow slowly rose higher. I skipped to the English version and it suddenly made sense. That swim practice was pretty brutal. I realized that if you left them on too long, taking them off was like removing a circle of knives from your face. If you pulled your eyebrows down when you did it, It would be much more painful. I attempted a few starts and realized that since the strap was not immediately adjustable, like all my previous pairs, I would have to take them off and re-tie the strings together. They immediately came off on every start but that didn't bother me bad enough to fix them. After practice, I bought the cheapest bungees I could from Coach P., and that solved the problem.

I brought the goggles home and showed them to my mother. "Oooh! don't those hurt?" Even thought the goggles did hurt, there was something about them I liked. It was like they were a little something to tell me to go faster. Each time I started slacking they'd dig a little deeper into my face and I'd pick up the pace just so I wouldn't have to think about them anymore. Recently I did have a situation where I had to stop because of how bad the goggles hurt. I think for a while I was wearing them incorrectly which only made them hurt more. What I think I like most about them though is that when you take them off at the end of practice the world stops glowing orange, and the pain flares and slowly fades. I feel like the circles under my eyes are like battle scars. They show how hard I was pushing the whole practice. I like that feeling. I feel so tough when I can say that I wear painful goggles because I want to, not because I have to.

My mom has given me permission to stop wearing them but I think I'll keep using them. They have actually helped in absolutely no way. I don't really care though. The doc said that eczema never really goes away, so I figure it will probably flare and fade for the rest of my life. I know my mom cares about how I look, so I try to put all my meds on each day, but in the end, I don't think it will matter. I think of them as defining facial marks. If a girl every wants to date me, they'll have to see through my crusty exterior. Maybe it isn't as bad as it's made out to be. I'm just trying to look at the good in this situation.