Let me tell you a tale. On Friday I was invited to attend a lovely 80s party for the birthday celebration of Shiphrah. Well, we had to dress up like people from the 80s would dress and I got the bright idea to curl my bangs. The idea worked stupendously and I think I looked rather 80s-ish, but it didn't come with out some minor...er...complications, I guess I could call them.
Upon raising the curling iron to my head, I grabbed my bangs and rolled the iron downward, over my forehead. But, I didn't think about the position of the iron and unfortunately, the spot on the iron that opens when you squeeze the handle, was facing the bear skin on my forehead. Not thinking, I squeezed. Yelping in horrific pain, I jerked the iron away. I burned a small rectangle onto my head.
And the burn strategically located itself right under my part, so no matter how I wear my bangs, it can be seen.
No one noticed at the 80s party, because the burn was still fresh. But, a few days later, on Sunday, I was asked by probably every soul I nodded a greeting to, "What happened to your head?"
At first, I was rather ashamed . I mean, it was quite embarressing. But now, as I gaze into the mirror at the small, rectangular, red shape on my head, I feel affection. And I have affectionately deemed her as, Scabbington.
Now, now, don't judge. I know the initial reaction is to think, "Why on this planet would someone name a scab?" But, I feel as though when the iron burnt my head, it burnt Scabbington's name on my heart....in an inseparable type of way.
She is my Scabbington. And please, no rude comments when you see her, she is very sensitive and already having some insecurity issues from the people who laugh, make fun, and stare at her.
...............wow
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