So today I am suppose to share a scar. I am sure this can be physical or emotional. I am going to go with a physical one that makes laugh every time I think about how I got it. Oh that sneaky moment when you realized how bad you much you are maturing but your parents do not, LOL. I have a scar on my left shin that is about 3 inches long it used to be pretty dark but has lightened considerably since I was 12 (almost 2 decades ago).
I lived in a full house. We had 3 bathrooms. My parents had a bathroom in their room they shared. My sister and I shared a bathroom, and my brothers shared a bathroom. My biological mother says she nicknamed me mink for many reasons but I believe it was because I was always so hairy. I have always had long hair on my head but having long thick hair on your head from birth usually doesn’t stop there for most girls, LOL. You guessed it I had hairy legs and arms too. I was not too self-conscious about this until middle school when all my friends were shaving theirs off and asking why I wasn’t. I looked like an ape near them. They were necessarily picking on me (though there were girls I did not associate with who did) but they would ask. So one day after showering I saw my sister’s dull razors sitting by the shower. I had no idea that a razor could be dull or that you you needed to hold them at certain angles. I also did not think that if you had knots in your shins from chronic hairline fractures (severe shin splints from running) this was probably not the best idea. BUT I WAS DETERMINED!
I took a practiced stroke with no shaving cream! and same some hair and was excited…I did it again…and again. Then I got to the shin…and it felt weird at first I thought hm and did it a bit harder and faster, and when it felt a bit weirder I looked down. I was in shock. It was white. I don’t mean ashy white I mean BONE white. Then it began to burn…then the bleeding began. I nearly screamed. I closed the cabinet LOUDLY, washed the razor and gently placed it back in the shower, put it back quickly. and then pretended I did nothing there. Then rushed to my mother. It looked like I was dying. I was panicked telling her that I was at the sink and my usual clumsiness of hitting the cabinet had finally resulted in scraping the the sin out my shin. She believed it somehow without further explanation. I was seriously that clumsy which was sad but it was the most painful burning I had ever had in my life. I mean it was down to white tissue, maybe one I just remember it being bright white, then gushing red!
My mom kept a larger than life first aid kit on hand not because she had kids but because she had ME. People said that it was normal for moms to have that many band-aids when they came over but she explained that this bag was just for me and that I went through them rather quickly. Being clumsy is how I learned to laugh at myself early in life! My siblings just kind of got use to it! Most of the time I would not even tell my parents I got hurt they would just know and bandage me anyway to make sure things did not get infected even though I wanted to keep playing, LOL.