Scars with a Z

"Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London underground." -Albus Dumbledore

I have my fair share, but none of them are very cool. Not at all in fact. Guys always seem to have cool scars. I've never broken anything, so all of mine are from nicks and cuts, etc.

On my hands, starting with the right
-There's a half inch long white line at the base of my thumb. Source: unknown
-Middle knuckle of my middle finger. Short, thick, white scar. This one is from playing pool of all things. M-Lite and I used to go down to the basement of the old apartments and play, and somehow we'd always end up talking with ridiculous fake accents. One time my hand slipped and I gouged my knuckle open on the edge of the table. I don't handle pain all that well. I ran upstairs to get Neosporin and band aids, hoping I wouldn't pass out before I got there. M-Lite has a similar scar on the same finger from cutting hair.

My left hand
-There are several spots on the palm of my hand where the natural lines are interrupted and my flesh looks as though it must have been pinched by something. I have no idea if this came about naturally or what.
-The base of my ring finger has a squat segment of a scar. I nicked it at work cleaning the chef's office. I don't understand why it chose to scar, as I've had much worse happen with nothing left behind to show for it. Hmmmm.
-A white line, an inch and a half long on the left side of my hand, on the flat part that you'd rest on the desk while writing. Everyone needs a nemesis growing up. I detested a little boy six years my junior who had a better vocabulary than most adults I know. Playing chase at the church building I ended up being cut by a pen that was jagged at one end, its clip having been broken off. Little beads of blood formed, and as per usual I headed for a restroom to clean it off before I could faint. Man I hated that kid. He bit me in the leg once.
-No scar remains from this that I've been able to see, but sometime this past summer I managed to cut off the tip of my thumb. I was using a pair of scissors to detach long strips of magnets from some metal poles. My hand slipped and whoops! I sliced into my thumb. Like I said, I don't deal with pain very well. I grabbed some toilet paper to blot with and laid down on my back on the floor by the vanity with my feet up in the air, holding my thumb, feeling lightheaded, and hoping that the skin would reattach itself. Finally I called out for M-Lite, asking her to come into the back. She came back, found me lying like I was, and I told her I'd cut off the top of my thumb, and asked could she please get me some Neosporin and some band aids? The skin never did reattach itself.

My head
- I have a large white spot on my chin. I have no idea why. It's possible that it's left over from the chicken pox I had as a child and I've only just noticed it. Likewise, I have a small white spot on my nose.Then again I'm white all over, so it's possible that it's not a scar, and just my natural coloration.
-High on my forehead is a dent. Playing horsey as a child I was ridden into a rocking chair.
-Somewhere on the top of my head there is a scar. I've never seen it, but I believe that it must be there. It's from a ladle. M-Lite and I were sword fighting when we were little, and even though I had the older, sturdier ladle, and she had the new blue plastic one, I was the one who ended up getting hurt. She bopped me on the head and I bled. A lot. Head wounds do that. I was put in my parents' bed to rest and I bled all over my dad's pillow. He gave me the pillow after that, as it was blood stained and of no use to him.

This opens up a whole other can of worms though, because I remember being glad he'd given it to me because I didn't have a pillow at the time. I have no idea why this was, just that I didn't have one. I'm sure there's a logical explanation - I probably lost it or something, and in the shuffle and the hustle and bustle of ten people all living together nobody noticed. I find it very funny is all, because I didn't have an Easter basket either. Some of my siblings had set Easter baskets that they had dibs on and used every year while the rest of us used ice cream buckets or whatever. I also did not have a Christmas stocking for a few years because mine got lost. Each of us has a stocking with our name on it, but mine disappeared somehow and for several years my mom used a brown paper lunch sack instead. I have a new one now, but for a few years I kind of expected to find some yogurt and a sandwich awaiting me Christmas morning.

Just to clarify, I don't actually think I was neglected in any way that was harmful to me- looking back I think it's really quite funny, these things I realize about my childhood, and I laugh and wonder why I didn't have a pillow.

That's all really, except for some scars on my feet and some obvious mental problems. The end.