Ouch.

I had been in Rome for less than 24 hours when I started to get a blister on the ball of my right food (stupid throwback jelly shoes).  I bought some "blister corns" (no moleskin) and a new pair of Havianas on the way home my first evening, in the hopes of staving off an even bigger blister.  

No such luck - by my second evening, I was in serious pain and had a perfectly round, perfectly enormous and perfectly painful blister.

I held the following desperate consultation via email with my Dad:

Me: Dad, I have a blister - should I pop it?  The only thing I have to pop it with is the back of my earring." 

Dad: "That's not a blister, its syphilis."*** 

Me: "It hurts so bad." 

Dad: "Pop it at the base, leave the dead skin in place and bandage it. Make us the beneficiaries of your life insurance.  Good luck (spoken with a heavy eastern European accent)"

So, I gathered up some tools and commenced performing minor surgery.  

surgical tools

the first cut

drained..

...and freshly bandaged

I have to say, I'm pretty impressed with myself - 24 hours later and I can barely even tell I had an enormous blister preventing me from even enjoying gelato, prosciutto and gorgeous Italian men (the horror!).

***He didn't actually say that but it is his usual reply to any medical questions I direct at him so I exercised some artistic license.