Once the skin of my hands start catching threads on my clothes I know winter has arrived. As a health professional I wash my hands eleventy times a day year round, but it’s not until the air withers and the temperatures drop that they become human Brillo pads. It’s gross. If sandpaper and steel wool spawned a love child, that offspring’s texture is my skin. Not only is it displeasing to the eye, it hurts in a subtle, ever-present, burning kind of way. Like how I imagine venereal disease must feel. So what’s the best mode of prevention? You guessed it: use protection. Stay with me here,... Read More