After thinking about Kat's writing prompts this week, I decided to be bold, to be fierce, and to be more than a little gross. I have chosen to tell you about that scar. Or in my case, the many little scars.
(If you have an easily excitable gag-reflex, just know, you've been warned.)
It all started at the tender of I really don't remember. I must have been around 5? I remember doing a lot of running around at that age. You know, chasing boys around the playground in kindergarten, saying, "now you have cooties!" One of those times, in my attempt to spread my girly disease, I must have taken a tumble and ended up with a large scrape on my knee.
I was in love! No, not with the boys, but with my scab! It was fantastic! I was amazed that red liquid has slowly turned to a solid chunky mass; a band aid my body had made on its very own! I was so intrigued that i thought, this phenomenon must be studied. So I peeled that sucker off and put it in an empty baby jar.
Can you guess what happened next? (Well, after the initial tears and more blood) It came back!!! What resilience! This one wanted to hold on a bit longer, it must have known what was coming, but with the help of mommy's tweezers, it ended up in the jar too. (ha, ya bastard!)
Over the years the jar grew from baby jar to jelly jar. Sometimes, I would take it out from under my bed and stare at all the unique and amazing forms my scabs have taken. They were my badges of honor! This one from falling of my bike, that one from the corner of the coffee table (that one was long and straight!) Each time I would find one, off he would come, into the jar to join the others.
As you can imagine, all this "scientific exploration" had some backlash. I ended up with tiny scars from the places I picked, then picked again and again. I'd take a picture for you, but most have faded with the help of years and a little Mederma.
At this point you have lost a little faith in me. You are scratching your head wondering if I purposely injured myself. Keep heart. I never became a cutter. I never turned into a sociopath. I just kept a jar of scabs. Now that's not too weird is it? :P
15 comments:
Oh my gosh! Gross as can be! I can totally see how this would have been a fun pass time as a child though :)
Eeewwwww... that is gross and not very sanitary I might add. Glad you grew out of that one!
Ick!
(visiting from MK)
Holy crap. That was gross.
Why in the world did I never do this as a child? Oh wait.... do you STILL do this?!
Oh my gosh that was gross but it is my own fault since you warned us. Ick!
im sorry but i could not finish reading...& i dont even get squeemish that easily.......
Oh ew. Do you still have the jar?
hahahaa! oh my gosh!! please tell me that you don't do that any more! lol
I LOVE YOU!!! You give me the courage to admit that in law school my roommate and I were obsessed with ear sores because we could pick the scab off over and over again (not off each others ears!). I'm not sure how the topic came up, but it was a welcome distraction during long classes.
Haha!! That takes some guts to admit your weird (sorry!) obsession as a child!! ;)
I think I may need to check under my daughters bed. I can so see her doing this!!
Stopping by from Mama K's.
LALALALALALALALALALALALALA
I SO didn't just read that.
;)
Oh WOW! I've done some gross things but wow...you win! What did you do with that jar? You don't still have
it, do you? Did your mom know what you were keeping under your bed? Great story!
Popping in from Mama K's!
Haha. That is pretty gross. But I can admit to being facinated by scabs when I was a kid. They are pretty cool, and before you are old enough to care about scars, they're fun to pick. But I never saved mine...
Your pic reminded me of these vinyl band aid car decals -- I could've used one for my ride when I was teaching myself how to parallel park last year!
http://www.wallmonkeys.com/catalog/band-aid/band-aid
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