Show me your favorite scar!
I have an awful habit: whenever I spot somebody with a really interesting scar, I ask them about it. You’d be surprised how often people seem relieved to tell me the story. I suspect most people would rather talk about it than think of you staring at their scar in horrified silence.
So, as it’s the weekend — and as I don’t have anything else to post about — how about we share scar stories?
I’m a clumsy woman, so I have many interesting scars — but I think this one’s my favorite. That there is right above my knee, and the scar is wide and faint because it’s terribly, terribly old.
I was about three. I was in the bathtub. My mother and her friend were standing at the bathroom sink with their backs to me putting highlights in their hair or clamping their lashes or whatever spooky shit women did with cosmetics in 1960-mumble.
I got to looking at that razor and thinking, “I can do that! I can shave my legs!” I gave it one good tug, with the result that you see. “Safety razor” is a slight misnomer.
But here’s the thing; I was sitting in a nice, warm tub of water. Turns out it’s quite true what they say — razor cuts don’t hurt at all in a warm tub. I knew I was going to get in trouble when my mother saw what I’d done, so I covered my knee with my hand and kept perfectly quiet.
It’s also true what they say: in warm water, you bleed like a bastard. By the time my mother turned around, her little girl was sitting in a huge steamy tub of bright scarlet. Hilarity ensued.
So, what’s your favorite scar? C’mon, what’s a girl got to do to hear your war stories, Bill (still the .00358% of my traffic that’s from Iraq) T? Drop her pants on the internet?