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As it turned out, Johnny would visit Jill’s room off and on during the following weeks. And that strange woman that left the Belmont’s room brought along another woman, and on occasion, he’d catch her on her way down the steps and invite her into his room, although she’d had preferred ‘Jill,’ so she said.
Tasma was not aware of most of this, but a little. Also, she had received at this time several letters from home by her parents, in particular her father, but she did not respond back. She was not certain what to say, she loved them, and Jill assured them she was fine, but it was too stressful for her to talk or write them. She did have a profound desire to please her father, and wishful thinking to please her mother, but it seemed she needed to learn how to please herself first, and to Jill, she did not blame them for anything, not anymore anyway. And had she started a communicational dialogue, they may have persuaded her to return, the one thing she did not want at this time.
—Jill was in the kitchen—the ironing board was pulled out from an inner-cabinet built into the wall, a wall-unite if you will, it was kept snugly in, in which there was a door attached to it; Jill was ironing Tommy and Johnny’s cloths, another lover circle had stared. Both were arranged in separate piles. Mrs. Belmont was sitting at the table talking seriously to her; it was most unusual thought Tasma, for seldom did she see Mrs. Belmont other than at the bar talking to Jill. As Tasma neared them to join them, the subject—whatever it was—changed, and what appeared on Mrs. Belmont’s face was an un-cheerful smile, not unusual, but quite sudden, and it was apparent. Consequently, feeling a little awkward she left the kitchen to work on her diary-novel (some poems), in the living room in her usual spot; in effect, she could overhear bits and pieces now of their conversation. It didn’t occur to her to get up and leave, rather the opposite; she actually pretended to be busy writing and was simply drawing a picture undiscernibly.
“It’s been going on for a while mom, I didn’t think it was, I mean it would end up like this.”
“Get rid of him, or all of them.”
“No, no, I don’t think Johnny will go so easy. He likes me, and thinks he can have me, and he has me of course.”
“What about Tommy?”
“I like him, I like him a lot, but that’s the problem, I don’t love him, I just like him.”
“He’s what you need though. He’s more anchored.”
[With scorn] “What the hell does anchored mean!” said Jill.
“Ok, ok, I could have used a better term, Tommy likes to work and go to school, he’ll be somebody someday.”
“Tommy doesn’t pay you a dime; Johnny does and Johnny works hard.”
“Yes, he works hard all right, hard at drinking, screwing you and god knows who else—smoking that weed.”
“So Tommy was screwing me and working.”
“You’re going to lose him to that cousin of yours if you don’t hang on to him.”
“Tasma,” she looked at Tasma reading, “you got to be kidding, she’s as naïve as a sparrow.”
“So you say: does a pineapple come from a pine tree?”
“No,” said Jill apprehensive, “now what does that mean?”
“She’s not the little girl she was three, four months ago, or is it five or more? She has a good shape, and pretty face, and if Tommy can’t see it, I can. And so can a lot of men at the bar. Anyhow, Tasma is not the issue, Johnny and Tommy are.”
(A long pause came, then with a cracking voice, and an almost whisper, she leaned over to her mother, and Tasma leaned over the arm of her chair): “I think I’m pregnant…”
“Ay caramba,” she said in a sigh that slurred all the way to Tasma’s ears, “…now what?”
“It’s Johnny’s, not Tommy’s, Tommy uses a rubber, and Johnny thinks it is not manly to do so.” It was momentarily hard for Jill to look her mother in the face; she was at this time, pacing the floor in a small circle as her mother followed her with her eyes.
“Listen Jill, Johnny’s drinking with all the gang members at the bar, and he’s gambling, it’s just a matter of time before he gets in trouble with them.” (Some of the gang members had motorcycles, others cars, it was somewhat an unofficial bunch of criminals, in that they were but twenty of them that hung out at a number of bars).
23 Shan’t be a Minute
Tasma found herself walking upstairs to her room, it was quieter in the kitchen, and figured, she had heard enough, a voice said, “Where are you going?” it was Jill, polite but to the point.
“Shan’t be a moment,” was her answer. She wanted to tuck away her diary-novel, she had written some exposing things in it. And so she tucked away, under her pillow, as if it was safe, and her place was off limits to others, which in presumption it seemed to be. For the most part, she did not want to leave it laying about for someone to pick up accidentally.
Life had seemed uncomplicated she thought, and now with Jill’s mother it seemed somewhat speculative, if not downright disjointed. It had now crossed her mind Tommy would find out the secret, the secret being Johnny’s behavior and her being pregnant, or so she said she was, and ‘I know about it,’ she felt as if she was a betrayer, be it to Jill or Tommy, or even Johnny. Down the stairway, into the living room she went. She looked outside through the bay-window and there was Mrs. Alice Whitehead getting into the car, she looked at Tasma, Tasma waved at her, she was a nice old lady, and it always seemed to her she had concern on her face for her.
As she turned around looking towards the kitchen she noticed Mrs. Belmont sorting out bills: ‘I suppose she’s done talking to Jill now,’ was her thinking.
“I talked to your mother a few days ago Tasma, she’s doing well and I told her likewise, you were doing well.” Tasma simply made a polite gesture, no verbal adjectives.
“I want to do something today, a surprise, come with me,” asked Tasma, for some odd reason something had popped into her head.
“What, may I ask, is on that devious mind of yours?” laughed Jill.
—Tasma and Jill were gone for several hours, and arrived back home at about 6:00 PM. Johnny and Tommy were sitting in the living room watching TV. As they both walked into the house, both the boys were somewhat taken back a bit at Tasma’s appearance—if not down right, star-struck. Her long reddish hair was cut to where it reached only the nape of her neck. And she was wearing more makeup than she had before, the result: she looked a little fresher and less school-girlish, than before. Thought Tommy, ‘…before she seemed more delicate and fragile..,’ as he glanced at the poise she displayed as she smiled and stood in the middle of the room awaiting the verdict of the two young throbbing hearts, the heart breakers themselves. Johnny noticed her slender bones, and her nicely shaped neck was more defined (front and back). Tommy for some reason noticed her neatly-set breasts, small as they were—just above her small waist they were a hand full no more. Yet her slyness somewhat removed, still left her with a harmless effect. Her nervousness was repressed for the most part.
Along with all that, with all the money she had saved up, she also purchased some bath salts, talcum powder and a small mirror, which she duplicated for Jill as a gift for allowing her to stay. She had spent her $100-dollars she had saved.
For some odd reason, Tasma had glanced back into the kitchen, expecting to see Mrs. Belmont, but of course was not surprised when she was not there, she usually would go to the bar around this time, either she had missed her, or she was in her room preparing to go. The boys looked at one another in jest, and laughed.
Said Johnny with his normal side joking way, “So now you’ve grown up, welcome to the real world kid, looks like you’re willing to join us.”
Tasma knew Johnny’s ways and knew that was better left alone.
“It makes you feel good,” commented Jill; meaning spending money on oneself for preservation purposes, or simply for a change in one’s life. But there was concern in Jill’s unseen eyes, in her cerebellum. She was no psychologist, like Skinner or Pavlov with his salivating dogs (who worked on association), but the boys were kind of salivating, restlessly slobbering might be a better way of putting it, if not downright uneasy, with this new Tasma look.
Everyone had gone to bed now, it was Jill’s turn to sit downstairs in the sofa-chair for once, wondering, thinking, not sure of her next move. ‘I just don’t get it,’ she asked herself, ‘why am I so attracted to Johnny, and going with Tommy? Tasma wouldn’t have the answer even if I asked her, nor mom, facts are facts, feelings are feelings, I don’t sense they are neither right or wrong, they just are. Johnny makes love as if he was a mad man and seems almost barbaric, and I think of him when I make love to Tommy—it’s just unthinkable. I wonder how Tommy’s new book will turn out. Can you love two people at once, at one time? A good question; I think I do, or maybe it is lust, how do I know, I’m just…(pause) will be nineteen in a month. Mom said: love is a choice. I say love is a feeling. I wonder what Tasma would say. I know Tommy feels love through his penis, like Johnny, all men do, kind of, sort of—most of the time; but Tommy is more willing to be dedicated, I think. I have learned men are attracted by looking, but I like touch.’
On her way to her bedroom, she stopped at Tasma’s room, knocked lightly, “Can I come in just for a moment?” she asked.
“Why sure you can,” answered Tasma with a thoughtful voice.
“I had a great day with you today, and thanks again for the things you bought me (this was a good lead-in she thought to bait her for a question to be soon asked), but I have a question, somehow I think you’re going to oversimplify the answer but I’ll ask it anyhow. How do you know if you’re in love with a person?”
Surprisingly, Tasma answered Jill with foreknowledge, “You mean you are having a hard time trying to figure who you want, Tommy or Johnny?”
(A tight look went over Jill’s face.) “Yes, yes, that is where I’m coming from; I didn’t know it was so obvious.”
“It’s becoming obvious Jill, it was the first day Johnny came through the door, and it has progressively taken a greater shape to it. But in regards to your answer, I’ve never been in love so I might be the wrong person to ask, but I do know this, as simple as it may be: if I wanted to go out with Johnny, I couldn’t be in love with Tommy—that much. I mean, I’d think whoever you were in love with—you’d not want to go out with anyone else; you’d kind of want to stop shopping around for another person, or so I believe. If I was to get married, I’d not want to go out with anyone else: and if I did, I’d know that I was not ready for marriage, to him or anyone, if that makes any sense.”
But to Jill it made all the sense in the world. She was sleeping with Tommy at night, and wanted to be with Johnny.
“What do you think I should do?” asked Jill.
“I think you already know; I don’t think I need to say anymore. My heart is with you, no matter what the outcome is.” Then Tasma hugged her tightly.
24 Reset
As the next two weeks passed a kind of silence took over the house, people talked less to one another, I suppose you could say, Jill was the life of the house, and now she was deep in thought. Everyone tried to keep busy and pretend things were normal, but they of course knew they were not. The Belmont’s kept their normal schedule, and the pretense lingered.
Tasma had finished up with Tommy’s book on San Francisco, and had explained to him how she liked the ending of ‘Bustling,’ by his fake name Colleen Grant; she commented to Tommy: “The younger woman fell in love with the older man, but she had psychological issues, and she was too fragile for him to care for her emotional illness, and he was too sick biologically for her to care for him. It was a sad ending I thought, but had they married: love would not have been enough, as they wished, they’d both had ruined the life of the other. Yet they remained friends as they parted, matter of fact they remained friends until he died at the age of eighty-years old, and her, at eighty-two.” She then read a poem she was working on for him: “I haven’t put it in my book or diary yet, but here it is I’ll read it to you from the paper (Tommy sat inquisitively on the edge of her bed):
The Maiden from Seattle
When she walked into the light The door to life, grew black as
Night, And her earth began to swell
(This youthful beauty of Seattle);
At first glance— Fell this youth from high Aching to touch the morning sky.
Who dare take this maiden’s hand? To help her though this silent land! Ah! From hair, to heart, to breast:
Like faded flowers in the ground Fleshless alms, could not be found, And so she remains—bound!
Said Tommy in surprise, “I like it, I think a little or maybe a lot of you is in the poem; I think you’re going to be a Mrs. Plath, or Dickinson some day.”
—The following day Tommy had come into Tasma’s room unexpectantly, “Are you still writing your story?” he asked.
She looked at Tommy, “Just some poems, and dairy notes, really haven’t gotten into the plot or theme of anything in particular yet; not sure how to get it going.”
“Let me see, maybe I can help you” he said. Yet Tasma was still bewildered of his rudeness to just kind of enter at will; she liked him and didn’t want to scare him away, on the other hand, she was not going to join any love-circle.
She leaped quickly to her pillow, then it dawned on her, she had much information in it about Johnny, Jill, Tommy and, none other but the: The Lady in Black, as she referred to her in the diary. But had she not jumped, she thought afterwards, had she not jumped she’d had not given away her hiding place, although it was no vault for sure—I mean, a mouse could have found it had it looked for it.
“I, I have too many personal things in it, private things, I’d rather you not see,” said Tasma as she currently held the book in the middle of her chest; as she got off the bed with her one knee, fully turning about now, she tripped on her shoe and the book fell, Tommy quickly grabbed it and opened it. Tasma saw him reading it, and needed to do something quick, she grabbed it out of his hands and jumped on the bed, her dress flying above her waist showing her underwear and all.
Somehow Tommy found the child in him, and jumped on her bed trying to grab the diary from her as they rolled around in the bed; now Tommy hovering over her, his legs between hers.
“What are you two up to?” questioned a voice in the background, it was Jill: she had heard the ruckus.
“My fault, I was trying to get her diary from her, I started to read something quite interesting,” he looked at Jill halfheartedly. Had he gone back any farther, thought Tasma: The Lady in Black was there.
Jill looked at Tasma in an indefatigably way, “I see I wasn’t invited to the party—”and slipped off to her bedroom where she just looked out the window aimlessly. In a way it didn’t bother her about what she’d seen, but on the other hand, she was jealous. When Tommy left the bedroom to join Jill he didn’t know whose child it was; he had only read up to ‘I overheard her say to her mother she was pregnant today by….” He could not ask Tasma to betray Jill, it would be too much to ask, if anything, Jill might be betraying him, it was indicative of her.
—In the following days, Tasma noticed Tommy and Jill fought quite a lot; and Tommy was not a person to be irritated easily, it must be that she was leading Tommy to believe it could be his child, Tasma thought. Then one evening she noticed Tommy sleeping on the coach, and Johnny still remaining in his bedroom.
During this interval, Johnny entertained himself in his bedroom, hoping Tommy and Jill would sort things out—thus he remained in kind of a queue, waiting for Jill’s signal to return, somehow he had come to that conclusion she would. He found himself pacing the floor at night, saying, ‘I wish, whatsitsname, would…’ and never ended the sentence.
—I must make this awkward at this point, his mind broke off the subject of Jill and Tommy after the first week, his insides became external. He looked at himself, pretending he was not feeling this serge; he had not guessed at this until it engulfed him, there was stern on his face—and, toil in his hand. A cold shower might work he thought, but it was too far away. He felt he was on a fast run; he hardened his body like a weightlifter, a boxer ready to take a punch.
This lasted two weeks, finally an agreement came about, Jill would sleep with Johnny, and Tommy would sleep in Johnny’s room, and in due time Tommy would have to leave, approximately in a few months, considering once she started to show it would only provoke issues within the household, or so she felt. The real problem was that Johnny did not have the heart to tell Jill he liked the way things were, and he really liked Lorie to a higher degree. He wanted his sex, but could find it elsewhere if need be, now he’d have to resort to living in her bedroom, and his alone time would be altered. In addition, Lorie was somewhat out of the picture for he had not seen her in weeks as he waited for this all to settle, but he’d see her again is what he was planning. Again, everything seemed in the air now. But to resist the plan would be too premature at the moment he deliberated out.
In spite of the tension, things appeared to move about on a regular base for a few more weeks. However, Johnny was starting to hang out with the gang more often now, with their motorcycles, and customized old cars. He was doing a lot more drinking and gambling with the gang members. They had even stopped on a few occasions at Jill’s house looking for Johnny, taking pains to find him, going out of their way it would seem. It came to her attention; Johnny owed them money, how much it wasn’t said (but it was close to $6,000-dollars). They’d not go to his work; it was one thing the groups forbid: that being, to endanger a man’s livelihood was not being a man at all. They could do almost anything else, even kill you, but not jeopardize your job: that was considered a low blow.
Out of nervousness, Tasma started to keep her distance from the group at the bar, if she could, she would have vanished into thin air.
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Ladies, if you find yourself asking your male companion that killer trick question "do I look fat", then let’s be honest, you are doing so for one of four reasons: you are fat, you are feeling fat, you are vain, or you are in need of attention. And if you haven’t figured it out already, you should know that any man worth his salt has learned one thing: to answer certain female trick questions immediately, firmly, and with a clear, riveted gaze. It is all about the rudimentary, involuntary-reflex response, "No. You look perfect!" It is not an answer, but simply a male maneuver to buy another minute until one can figure out for which reason the question was asked in the first place.
And most men, even the most boorish, know the various permutations of the trick question too.
For instance, the indirect method:
"Do these jeans look too tight?"
"No. They fit perfect." Or the slick double-secret-probation approach:
"Do you still love me, even though I’ve gained weight?"
"Yes I do. And you look perfect." Or the subtle non-question question:
"I think I need to go on a diet."
"No you don’t. You look perfect."
There can be no hesitation, no darting eyes, no mincing of words when the response is given. If one does, one deserves to become the sorry sack of shittolla one is about to become. My theory is that men whose fathers or mothers did not prepare them falter exactly once. Depending on the female partner, the offender is either killed (the lightest sentence), or treated to a year of hard time, at the conclusion of which the guilty party either has learned all the correct rudimentary involuntary-reflex responses or has joined the gay ranks or has become a monk vowed to a life of silence.
Well no matter how one gets there, for guys in the know, the rudimentary involuntary-responses are the easy part, after all they are as routine as lifting up the toilet seat—another gem that was hopefully hammered into us in our formative years. The hard part is trying to figure out the real reason for the question and choosing what the appropriate follow-up response is.
To enlighten those males who have not advanced to this stage, let me help you, let me show you the logic, let me give you hope. Let’s walk through this together. There’ll be fanny pats at the end if you get it.
So the trick question is asked. We immediately regurgitate the appropriate robotic response. We have about a minute to figure out her reason for asking and if a follow-up is required. That moment of male mental gymnastics is more tension packed than the last episode of 24.
As daunting as it might seem, it’s not so bad if we break it down like any other business problem.
1. She actually is fat. Beware! She ISN’T interested in your confirmation. She probably just got a glimpse of herself in a mirror, is feeling really lousy about, but uninterested in doing anything about. If she were interested in doing something about it, trust me she wouldn’t be asking you for an opinion! Unless you want a situation, it’s best to leave this one alone and say nothing in follow-up. And just in the event that you are toying with the idea of saying something that even slightly acknowledges her extra pounds, take an honest look at yourself first. There is a good chance you aren’t winning any Mr. Olympia trophies soon. So grab a bag of cheese doodles and take your lard-ass to the couch, lest you say something you will regret.
2. She feels fat. This is a ticklish one at first but in the end is as simple as number 1 above. She may feel fat because she is fat in which case she may be coming to grips with her fatness. That might be a good thing. Let her be; say nothing after the usual required response. The other possibility is that she might just plain feel some of that there bloating issue women get around that pre-you-not-what-but-I’m-not-allowed-to-say-because-it’s-sexist-but-really-not-because-it’s-true time. If this is the case, a poorly timed darting glance down at her belly could be suicidal. Don’t do it no matter how temptingt! Even if she lifts her belly-shirt and points. Don’t look! Stay focused and reaffirm the rudimentary involuntary-reflex response by changing it up a bit, "Get outta here: "am I fat"! You look perfect! If anyone’s fat it’s me!" Then volunteer to fold her underwear. Do something. Get out of there lickitty split.
3. She is vain. This is a tough one for me personally. If she is thin as rail and is just vacuuming for loose compliments, I have a tendency to want to give her something to think about; really feed into her low self esteem that seems so willfully misplaced. Again, it’s best to fight the urge, shut your hole and be glad it’s not a real issue. There are two corollaries to this though.
If this trick question stuff is a recent development, one may want to nip it in the bud before one ends up with someone who is vain all the time—not a very good thing. The standard knee-jerk response may be rewarding bad behavior subconsciously. After your minute of thinking is up, you might want to follow-up with the direct approach, "You know, I sense a little vanity there. Are you becoming a little vain? Feeling pretty good about yourself aren’t you?" Give her a chance to react. She probably will flash a little devilish grin, the type that acknowledges she has been caught. You then close with, "Nothing wrong with feeling good about yourself and occasionally fishing for a compliment. And sweetie, I’d compliment you all day long, if I didn’t think that it would eventually swell that pretty head of yours up so big that it starts to clunk off the walls and furniture and stuff; breaking the family crystal and all. That would be terrible." Ah, the beauty of a little disarming humor.
In the other scenario, if you find yourself on the down-side of the relationship with the self-absorbed twit and looking to speed up the inevitable, you might say casually, "Yeah, I’ve noticed those little bulges in your lower back. But they’re not so bad. No one’s perfect anyway." Then see if you can walk out of the room without a ring bouncing off your balding skull. The beauty of this retort is that she can’t see what you playfully pointed out—short of setting up a room full of mirrors anyway. It’s effective, satisfying and guaranteed the desired results. Plus you’ll be able to hock the ring she threw at you for some cold poker cash.
4. She needs attention. This is the most prickly reason she might be asking and not easily recognized by "X & Y" humans. Chances are she isn’t overweight. Chances are you might deduce falsely "she feels fat" because it’s that time of you-know-what-because-I-can’t-say-month. Before you settle on that or any other conclusion for that matter, take a few seconds more. Could it be that she just wants to know she is attractive to you because you have been so self absorbed with work or football or your thinning hair that you haven’t in the past year at least once looked her in the eye and told her she is the most beautiful person in your world? If she has to demean herself this way to check in on your attention, the fat she is referring to is from the heavy tumor you have become on her self esteem. And if you have even the slightest pang that this might be true, that she may need attention, you better drop whatever lame thing it is that you are doing, praise her up and down and make a mental note not to allow her to sink to this lowly place again. She may ask only once or twice more before she decides you are malignant and opts for immediate, radical surgery to remove the cancerous growth you’ve become.
By the way, women don’t have a lock on trick questions. Men do the same thing, just about male stuff. For instance, a man might mumble within earshot after coming out of the shower, "I wish my penis were bigger." It may not be in the form of a question but this isn’t Jeopardy either. It sure as hell is a cry for a little simpleminded ego building. Something like, "honey, you could jack up an eighteen wheeler with that thing" would go a long way. I suppose lesbian and gay couples eventually dive down (so to speak) into the same sad depths with equally problematic maneuvers.
The truth is I really don’t know what the answer is to avoid the certainty of these trick questions. Honesty in communication feels right and is even noteworthy but it’s not always effective.
"Am I fat?"
"Honey, you get any fatter and we’ll have to pay resident taxes to two states!"
or
"I wish my penis were bigger."
"You and me both! It’s like reading Braille with my vagina."
I suppose a simple "yes you are" or nod of agreement would be a better way to be honest without the immediate blood shed; the key word being "immediate." But eventually honesty will require your blood to flow.
So what is it we can do differently from scripting our escape? I guess nothing. Maybe it is just a condition of human relationships. I just can’t help but think though there is a better way. In the meantime, I’ll continue to brush up responses to new and improved trick questions. There is no time to relaxing, letting our guard down.
"Is my butt sagging?"
"Sagging? Are you kidding me? You could crack walnuts with that thing."
Not bad!
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Most of us suffer from fungal infections at some time or another during our life. Many of these infections occur in the superficial part of our body or in the skin. Fungal infections are transferable and some can be very dangerous and in extreme cases can even lead to death. Sometimes, you may be infected with a fungal infection and not even realize it.
One of the more common fungal infections is the yeast infection or in medical terms, candidiasis. Yeast infection is the infection of the mucous membranes caused by the fungus candida, specifically candida albicans.
Yeast infection also has another name, known as moniliaris, derived from the name form of a fungal genius, and thrush, a term usually reserved for infection of the mucous membrane of the mouth.
The fungus is a normal inhabitant of the mouth and vagina. Some certain bacteria that also inhibit the areas where the fungus is located usually follow the growth.
When the balance of these organisms is disturbed by certain antibiotic treatment or by hormonal imbalances or by weakening of the body’s resistance to disease, the fungus can begin to proliferate, propagate and multiply.
There are different types of yeast infection. Depending on the area of the body where it develops, yeast infection can occur in the mouth, in the folds of the skin and the penis, usually called as balanitis.
The most common and popular type of candidiasis is the vaginal yeast infection an uncomfortable infection that almost two thirds of all women will experience at some time in their life.
Yeast infections are manageable but still need the attention of a physician. If you think you have a yeast infection, it is best that you consult your doctor and if he or she has no objections, you might try some of these home remedies.
If you have yeast infection, daub apple cider vinegar in the areas prone to infection regularly. You can add some garlic that will help stop the itchy feeling and water to dilute the vinegar concentration.
Curds and yogurt are foods identified to be the most effective home remedy for yeast infection. It is advisable to soak a tampon into curds and place it in the infected areas for at least an hour. The healthy required bacteria from the curds will replace the unhealthy yeast bacteria. This could be done twice or thrice a day.
Drinking at least two glasses of buttermilk a day is advisable whether you are infected or not. Curds should be part of the daily diet because this reduces the probability of yeast infection.
A Mixture of olive leaf extract with grape fruit seed extract in a glass of water is also a good potent tonic for this infection.
As a home remedy, it is also safe to take herbal products as alternatives to cure the infection.
Cranberry extract and cranberry blueberry extract are good for the infection. The two are good antioxidants as well.
The use of tea tree oil helps the curing of the infection. Dip a tampon in the oil until saturated then apply it the infected region.
You can also try applying baby oil with aloe and vitamin E to soothe the irritation and reduce the itchy sensation.
Raw garlic is a great antifungal and if you have a yeast infection on your skin, you might try rubbing some on it. I would avoid rubbing garlic on your private areas, however, as it can really sting.
Eating right, and including yogurt with active cultures in your diet as well as practicing proper personal hygene can all help to avoid yeast infection, however if you do happen to get one, it is nothing to be embarrassed about and you should see your doctor as soon as possible.
