I kept thinking my winter fat would go away, but it wouldn't. By springtime, my thighs had not retreated to pre-holiday size, and though outwardly acting nonchalant, I privately grimaced as my pants changed sizes twice in four months. "Maybe it's my age," I thought and consciously I began cutting back on sweets - not hard to do following seasonal gluttony. At first, I excused my weight gain, citing my aging metabolism.

While considering the graceful aging processes, I began experiencing unnerving sensitivity to foods I held sacred, such as chocolate and almonds, and chocolate-covered almonds. One morning in March, while dressing and chastising myself for having dipped too often into the holiday candy, I glanced at my behind in the full-length mirror. I noticed my pants didn't appear tight exactly, but instead, they looked "puffy".

Raising my pant-leg, I pressed my finger into my swollen flesh. "Am I suffering from edema?" I wondered. My skin looked and felt sunburned. Momentarily, I thought, "I just refilled my prescription two weeks ago. Maybe I'm reacting to a different generic brand of thyroid medicine." Flippantly dismissing the thought, I tucked it away behind the last sentence on the bottom of my prescription paperwork that read something to the effect: "This is the same medicine you've been taking, just a different shape." Considering the season, I chalked up my puffiness up to a histamine reaction from an extremely high level of juniper pollen locally, took extra vitamin C and magnesium, continuing to eat lots of salad. Knowing much about allergies, I now found myself in a quandary. I could not, for the life of me, figure out the cause of my ailments. I had tried eliminating suspect foods: almonds, chocolate, tree nuts, tomatoes. Why was I sensitive to foods I love? Still, without them, the skin on my arms, legs, face and scalp crawled incessantly. Everyday, that tingling sensation grated on my last nerve and I began to live close to my emotional edge.

Apparently, my immune system was wildly releasing histamine and heparin. Histamine is an antibody meant to neutralize bacteria and viruses. It's part of the immune system's complex chain of chemical reactions. Mostly thought of as causing nasal stuffiness and hives, it also regulates gastric acid, constricts smooth muscles (such as inside the bladder and intestine), dilates small blood vessels making them leaky, lowers blood pressure, and irritates skin nerve endings, making skin tender and itch. Ultimately, it effects production of vital brain chemicals. Another chemical, heparin, an anticoagulant (blood thinner) is released along with histamine.

Normally, histamine and heparin are healing and necessary body chemicals. But in large doses, as one chemical reaction led to another, my symptoms multiplied. I began to fear my physical deterioration. Hysterically, I wondered if I was suffering from heart disease, Parkinson's, early Alzheimer's, Diabetes, or a stroke. Could my suffering be defined with an acronym? Fear forced my stress and anxiety levels up, worsening my allergies, which in turn worsened my stress. Like a gerbil in a plastic ball, I was running in circles, getting nowhere. At night when I closed my eyes and began dozing off, I saw images of (one of) my limbs moving, and then the limb would involuntarily jerk. Was this Restless Leg Syndrome or "RLS"? With increased frequency words began to momentarily disappear from memory and my speech faltered. My breath shortened; my chest tightened; I struggled against constant fatigue. My gums bled and my skin suffered from undeserved bruises. Accidentally smacking my arm just so on the kitchen counter edge, I busted a vein.

I finally reached my limit. One evening, after almost three months of increasing misery, I simply stated to myself, "Please tell me what is making me sick." Giving the question to my brain, I proceeded to take a nap. Exactly 20 minutes later, I woke up like a shot. Tearing straight into the bathroom, I grabbed my prescription bottle and, staring at the label, remarked out loud "It's the medication! Something has changed in the medication." Throwing on my shoes, I grabbed my purse and with great clarity of purpose drove to the pharmacy. Like as if I expected an immediate answer, I thrust the bottle at the harried but patient pharmacist nicely demanding, "What is in this prescription? What's making me sick?"

The pharmacist studied the bottle a moment. "Well, we recently changed manufacturers," she shrugged. "You could be allergic to the inactive ingredients. I can refill this with the name brand drug if you prefer." "Thanks," I accepted, and whisked home to quickly research the obvious - inactive ingredients in the generic drug I had been taking.

The manufacturer's ingredient data popped up on my computer screen. Acacia was on the list. "Acacia!" I blurted out loud. "ACACIA" I screamed in disbelief. All at once, I was shocked and relieved to realize that one of my worst allergens was used as filler in my new prescription. Outrage and suspicion raced through my mind - does this drug company make profits from blood coagulating drugs and antihistamines, necessary to stop symptoms caused by Acacia sensitivity? Does one drug beget another?

Right or not, the pharmacist's position was that it is impossible to verbally warn all clients of changes in prescription inactive ingredients. Ultimately, no matter how little and undecipherable the type, it's my personal responsibility to read drug information sheets for any product I consume. I had become overconfident in others and lazy in that respect. It could have cost me my life.

Distinct changes came within two days of my return to my "old" prescription. The pain and swelling in my legs subsided and the bruises dissipated. I stopped worrying and ceased twitching in my sleep. My stress level dropped immediately. After six days, I had almost no apparent ill effects from the Acacia. Back to feeling friendly, I've been finishing my sentences without pause. Now, all I have to do is rid myself of my winter fat. I'm so glad it wasn't the chocolate.

Mimi Borger is the classified manager for The Observer. She's eating a Hershey Bar right now and thinking about getting on a treadmill to rid herself of that pesky winter fat.