I didn't start keeping a regular diary until I was in college. Sometimes it seems like my life before that is written out on my body.
My second and third toes on both feet are crooked from my years in ballet.
The middle of my right forearm aches when it's cold and rainy since I broke it in third grade.
The two scars from the man o' war sting I got the first time I went to the beach when I was 12 have faded. For a few months after it happened they were the same color as the man o' war's tentacles.
The long thin scar on my inner thigh just above my knee is from the sleepover I had for my fifteenth birthday. I scratched myself with my fingernail while flailing during a tickle fight. I never knew fingernails could be so dangerous.
Of course, now it's a collection of fine lines from kittens trying to climb up my legs. Words I'd never thought I'd say: 'Could you pick this kitten off my butt before it tries to go any higher?'
LOL, yeah the things you hear yourself say sometines, bahahah!
ReplyDeleteCute take on the word for the week :)
ReplyDeleteKylie: I'm just glad I only raise kittens so that when I say situation appropriate but otherwise crazy things I don't have to keep a straight face. I don't know how parents manage.
ReplyDeleteLinda: Thank you! I was having a day where I felt averse to literalism which can end badly. Glad it worked.
What a clever idea! Your body is a record of your life events-- a diary, but of course!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Debbie!
ReplyDeleteI poked around your blogs a bit and now I have an overwhelming craving for those stuffed dried persimmons. They look beautiful as well as delicious.