Bonjour les amis mon.
Or, if you are unlanguaged'ed like me, HELLO MY FRIENDS. Yes, apparently I do need to go to Miss Jenny's class weekly to become better acquainted with words in the English Dictionary.
lesson quiz report is brought to us by the letter
Many of us have some type of scars in our lives. They could be emotional, traumatic, or physical.
I am going to tell you about the actual scars of my life.
Let us begin.
This scar is the first one I ever got. I was all of the age of 3. It is on the bottom of my chin. I still remember to this day how I got it. Which is amazing since I don't remember a lot of things from my 3 year old age. We were playing with some friends (I think) and I was pushing the bench type seat on the swing set. I got too close and as it came back to me it smacked me smack dab in the chin. I remember bleeding a ton, but couldn't tell you if I was taken to the hospital or not.
I received this scar when I was 11. My last year of elementary school. When I was the rollerskating queen of the neighborhood. My brother pushed me as I was going down our down slopped driveway, around the car. He pushed me so hard I headed towards the garage and put my right arm through the window on the garage. 132 stitches later, I had the scar of my battle. I think back, and you know, nowadays they would have called in a plastic surgeon to stitch me up. But beings that this was in the pre 9-1-1 days, you drove yourself to the emergency room, your regular General Practitioner was called in, you were put in a regular ER room and stitched up. Wow, how times have changed. Apparently the cut was in a Y shape but our doctor pulled the V part together so it wouldn't be quite as frankensteinish. For a long, long time, whenever it was cold, it would turn bright red which was always good for my self esteem.
When I was in my 20's I had a growth on my right arm up by my shoulder. It wasn't cancerous, but I hated the looks of it, and people were always saying, "what's that on your arm", because they don't think you are already self conscience about it. So I had the doctor my mom worked for at the time remove it. I like to call it my spider scar, because, well look at it, a spider. Yuk
Lastly, when I was 33 I had the lovely, slip on black ice adventure at work. Ruptured a disk in my back. Down towards my tailbone. This is the scar from my surgery. Mr. Dazee was afraid I was going to go all plumbers crack on you when he took the picture. But alas, I spared all of you from having to pour acid in your eyes to get over it. They did the "scrape away" of the ruptured disk type surgery. If you look really, really hard with your x-ray vision, you will see that they cut a hole in my pelvic bone in a square shape about the size of a quarter to get to said disk. Now I have arthritis in said bone. Love me the cold weather, let me tell ya.
One thing I noticed. I may feel like I am 25, but my skin looks like it is in its 60's. I'm sorry. I really didn't feel old till I started fine tuning these photos. I apologize for any trauma I have caused by having to look at it.
Just think of the trauma I went through "seeing" that I'm not quite as young as I feel.
There you have it. The Scars of my life. I figure between my tattoo's and my scars, if I am ever murdered and left at the side of the road, (yeah, one too many episodes of Law & Order SVU, Criminal Minds, and NCIS), they should have no problem identifying my body.