I have always been graceful.
Because of that, I have some crazy stories and wicked scars. Because you are some of my closest friends, I have no problem sharing some of these stories with you.
Ah. First, did you know that like 83% of all people have a scar under their chin. As for how I got mine, it’s interesting. When I was about 17, my older sister decided that I was depressed because I was sleeping too much. Whatever that means. SO she called my doctor’s office, set an appointment for me and handed me the cash to pay for it. Did I mention that it was at 8am?! OR that she let me know this at 7:15am?! So I get into the shower. She is one of those people that put those no slip mats in her bathtub. Funny thing, I slipped. FELL out of the shower and hit my chin on the toilet. Beyond irritated, I finish getting ready and head over to see the doc.
Side note, this doctor that I was seeing was my PCP my entire life. As a matter of fact, he delivered me. He knew my whole family, and was friends with my mother and grandmother way before I was even thought of. SO we had history. I am sitting on the table, waiting for him to diagnose me with all kinds of mental illness. He walks in, we talk for about 45 seconds. After placing a Band-Aid on my chin, he tells me that I do not need any meds for depression. The best thing he can give me is advise, and in his medical opinion I need to pack my bags and move away from my family. Did I mention that I loved this guy?! I get home and tell my sister. She was pissed. It made the cut on my chin worth it.
Lets see. I have two DIFFERENT rug burn scars on my knees. From Church. Not like that, perv. The first one was during a game of knee basketball. Ripped a hole in my jeans and everything. The second was from a group learning activity. We were all tied together and had to run an obstacle course. Somehow I ended up in the middle of the group and when I tripped, I was drug to the finish line. Ironically on that same knee I have a scar that looks like a cross. My hubby tells people that he touched my knee with a crucifix and it burned me. Ha ha, funny guy.
There is a scar on the back of my left hand from the hinge of a closet door. On that wrist, I have a scar from an acorn. I sliced the tip of my middle finger on my right hand while carving turkey. There is a burn scar on my middle knuckle from a cookie sheet. I can keep going. Tell stories about falling off the middle of the couch, getting splinters in the back of my thighs, shutting my foot in the car door. See, graceful.
Just know, that if you see a scar, bruise or bump; there is an 85% chance that I DO NOT know where it came from. The stories above are the few that I know how, but there are more that I don’t know like cutting my left butt cheek in half. That is a wicked scar! Unfortunately it is not a cool story. Not one that I remember anyway. And that makes me … sad? curious? anxious? nervous?! A little of all of those. I am sure at my age of thirty …. something …. I should not have a memory or nerves this bad.
I guess … EH, who cares? Chicks dig scars. Isn’t that all that matters?