Body Art

Everyone has them. Battle scars. War wounds. Life's tattoos. Body art.

My father has one on his butt from where he sat on a lawnmower when he was a kid. My brother has one on his side where he had an uphappy meeting with a box cutter when he worked for a lumber company.

I have a lot of them. I think they make me unique - and a little interesting. They tell my life's story in a weird way. And I think they're all pretty cool...

• On top of my right foot, I have 3 small round scars. When I was a kid, I didn't know how to use the hand brakes on my new bike, so I used my foot. I wasn't wearing shoes. Not the sharpest crayon in the box.
• I have a tooth that is 75% fake and barely has a root. When we were young, my brother and I were trying to ride our bikes without using our hands. He veered off into me (I'd like to point out I remained straight all the way down). I got a fat lip, a busted tooth and a trip to the emergency dentist. He got serious restriction. (He also gets an assist for a broekn wrist of mine, but I don't have any scars from that, except the mental ones.)
• I have several hideous scars on my right hand. When I was 13, I tossed some hot grease in a frying pan - because I didn't want to set the table - and it splattered up on my hand. Got 2nd degree burns from that one, plus a trip to the hospital. The only thing worse than the burn was when the blisters ripped off while I was trying to water ski later that summer. Ouch.
• I have a BB in my butt. No kidding. I got shot the same summer as the hot grease incident. I would like to point out that my brother was nowhere near me when I was shot; he was at summer camp. I carry around the BB to this day; it was too close to my spine to be removed. More traumatic than having to explain to an entire household of my parents' friends - and all their SONS - that I was not "becoming a woman" was the lady in the ER saying, "Hey, where's the girl with the BB in her butt." That, and my dad still thinks it's funny to this day to announce to everyone that I'm toting lead.
• My left knee has a lovely scar I got from my wedding. Indeed. Small incident involving being chased by little people with rice. Busted my fanny good on that one; got the video to prove it.
• I've had 2 c-sections, so I have lovely railroad tracks on my lower abdomen. At least, that's what I'm told; I haven't seen that portion of my body since October 1997. Oddly enough, I know which scar belongs to which kid.
• Finally (let's hope), I have a fabulous little deal running the length of my right arm. I had a seizure...while holding Spanky...on my very first Mother's Day. My arm got caught under the bed and got messed up.

So while my body art isn't exactly pretty, it's like a roadmap of the big events in my life. They make me who I am...which I think is a little cool. How many other people do you know who have been shot? And the bullet's still in there. Bet you can't NOT think of it next time you see me!