Scratching an itch

I have ceased to believe in evolution. I guess this makes me a creationist. This is difficult for me to accept as an atheist. Still, it's probably the only answer.

Evolution works on the premise of survival of the most fit for its environment. Over millions and millions of years, mutations to the gene pool occasionally offer improvements to a species' survival, these mutations are passed down and eventually become dominant.

This is crap.

Because I recently found out that not only am I allergic to my own suntan (melanin) in a brilliant-sounding allergy called polymorphic light eruption, but I am also allergic to water. Let me say that again. I am allergic to water. Whenever I take a shower, I go horribly, horribly itchy. It's got a proper name and everything - aquagenic pruritus.

So, to summarise, I am allergic to sunlight. And water.

And yet, here I am. I exist. And, if I desperately wanted to, I might even be able to pass these faulty genes down to a whole new generation of (let's face it) nerds.

In turn, these allergies, whilst irritating, are unlikely to either significantly help or hinder them in their reproductive abilities.

Unless, of course, the next mutated wave of humans is irresistibly attracted to itchy people furiously scratching themselves. In which case, I rock. Just a few million years too early. Don't you wish your girlfriend could scratch like me?

So, I must be a creationist. But what kind of warped weirdo god would create someone in his image to scratch all day? Does God have lice?

And on that blasphemous note, I'm off to take my antihistamines.