I’m betting you have scars. I don’t know why that is, but I’m betting you do. Something in your eyes…
Lately, it seems I can’t make it through a day without hurting myself somehow. I mean, have you seen my hands? No, of course, you haven’t; but believe me when I tell you that I shouldn’t be allowed to bake, go outside when it’s this cold/dry, or even – as happened over the weekend – wash flimsy promotional glassware that cannot take the pressure of both a washcloth and hot water…
Man, I hate cheap promotional crap, especially when it had such a cool logo...
Of course not all scars are visible. My heart, for example, has been broken in three places. I don’t think the harm’s been irrevocable, but there are spots you can’t poke without causing pain.
Those kinds of scars, the broken-heart variety, are invisible to all but the ones who truly know us.
I don’t like those scars. If I’m going to have a scar, I want to show it off, tell stories about it. People get tired of your broken heart!
Frankly, I lie about my scars. Who wants to hear about a simple ice-induced fall into a knee-full of gravel/sand when I can claim that the tiny little pocks are a result of shrapnel?
This scar? My year at Heidelberg.
And this one? Motorcycle rally in South Dakota – I can’t talk about it without violating the terms of my probation.
Wait – is it still lying if I wink while telling the story?
Oh, well, I’ve got to be going. Just a quick walk to yoga – and if I blog tomorrow about how I chipped my front tooth during a Golden Gloves title bout last night (a fight, by the way, that I’ve been training for for years), you’ll know that I slipped on our ridiculously icy sidewalks.
*wink*
About Bob Dylan
5 days ago
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37 comments:
Laughing Out loud, it drives me crazy when you can read me like a book..all I do is mind my own biznus on the bus. Behind ever scar is a story, so true and most will make you laugh your butt off.. I know I get no sympathy, only laughs! Great post Pearl and thanks for the laughs.
Oh man I am SO with you, I don't mind those physical scars at all, I love the one from when I fell in the toilet, and the one where I stole a little boys bike and rode down the road with it only to wipe out in the gravel alleyway, and wind up spending 4 hours in emergency getting bits of gravel and sand dug out of my arm.
Yeah that something, I can laugh about that.
But the heart hurts. They just stay right where they are, and constantly taunt us from within.
All mine are mental. You don't want to see them.
Darsden, I am here only to hear you laugh.
Rachael, the heartaches take forever to heal, and there's nothing to SHOW people, ya know, once the tears have dried... If only a broken heart showed, some big bruise of something that you could point at and people could say "Oh, THAT'S why you're no fun! Your heart is broken!"
Maybe that's what tattoos are for.
:-)
So you and the squaw have the same aversions to household kitchen duties. She's received 2nd degree burns on her hands and has been known to cut her self on glassware or when chopping veggies. She's even gotten frostbite on her fingers when trying to start the car.
Just take these broken wings, and try ...
What's that? Apparently the toaster is on the attack, better jet.
Douglas, I like your new pic.
And now I'm busy picturing mental scars...
Eskimo Bob, it's true! The women are in cahoots. :-)
Or, how about the time when my daughter was two and fell against our raised stone hearth and my husband took her to the E.R.? They quizzed him for about 2 hours and then her separately to make sure he hadn't beat her or something. They kept asking him: "So, tell me again how it really happened." She has a scar today and we still call it "the Dad beating scar".
And your heart scar? Nothing a few shots of whiskey can't mend......
Oh, never mind....you already tried that!!! Ok...so THAT is what therapy is for (and blogging!)
Retired One, I am completely at home with the idea that some scars never smooth over.
And whisky? Oooh. Never. Makes me snake-y.
Guinness? Bell's Two-Hearted? A lovely Boddington's? I prefer the healing beers.
I LOVE scars. The physical tell the story of the body; scars of the heart tell the story of the soul.
IB, I really like that. It's simple and it's true.
I fall down all the time. And it's all my fault, don't call the cops on my husband.
I have a huge scar on my head which is thankfully hidden under my mane.
I got it for Valentine's Day in Sunday school when a boy threw a rock at me. After I told him I loved him.
How about the one you got that time when we were diving the Great Barrier Reef together? Remember the shark? the sunken treasure? I can't beleive you didn't mention THAT one....
Bella, I've said it before and I'll say it again: Love is dangerous.
Sticky, I can't believe I forgot about that one! And the skydiving incident? And then the time that guy threw a punch and you wiped the floor with him? MAN we used to have so much fun!
I tripped and fell down some wet stone steps after a ball in NYC and I had a cast on my leg for 2 months and got very tired of having to tell THAT story so I alluded to a "pole-dancing" story or Olympic ski-trials depending on who I was talking to. Much more interesting...
When people ask me about mine the story usually included ninjas.
Audrey, pole-dancing, huh?! I like that -- makes 'em wonder what other secrets you've got.
Jess, I have never considered adding ninjas to the story, but now that you bring it up...
you are so funny! Keep writing, you make my day. I am so glad I am following you!
I fibbed. I have a few physical scars (wrist, fingers, lip) but they don't hurt.
No, you don't want to picture mental scars.
Everyone seems to like that pic. I look friendly, I guess.
Sandi, thanks. :-) Some days, you know, I get all obsessive about my "stats" and whatnot, if people are reading, and then I think, but I'm doing this because I like to write! That's why I write! And I have a small fight with myself, we have a beer and sit on the couch and talk and everything's okay again.
I'm glad you stop by. :-)
Douglas, you DO look friendly, and I like the trimmed-down beard. You look dashing.
As I get older I find myself having to lie about injuries too. It's sad when you sprain an ankle from crossing the street or pull a muscle while taking out the trash. I miss the good old days when I had "cool" explanations about my injuries.
That's a bit freaky - I actually did study a year at Heidelberg.
I can hear the twilight zone theme music all of a sudden....
Chaka, that's how I got so involved with yoga -- twisting my ankle pretty severely whilst navigating a pile of snow left over from the plow. I lay in the street and thought, this is how it starts... I still fall here and there, but I do it so much more gracefully...
Red Squirrel, is that you?!
You still owe me a beer.
I've got one that goes completely around my neck but is only really visible in cold weather.
No. Wait. That's my scarf.
Sorry...
Hi Pearly-Q! This is great post!!
I have more scars than i care to talk about, but since you asked nicely i will.
Fractured ankle scars, scar on foot when upon waking I slammed by foot into my nearby bike just because. Scar on my lower lip because i decided to run when it was icy (or was it) and i fell FLAT on my face. Sure, i could have put my hands in front of me like normal people do when they fall, hey i got lazy!!!
Lots more, too much to list.
My heart, well it hurts too. Sometimes badly so i keep it inside. The hurt not my heart which is already inside.
I will stop now!!!
HAPPY THURSDAY!!!!
Steve, I got nothin' but this: :-) And yes. I LOLed.
Michelle, oh there is SO much more to that icy street story, isn't there?
I've not yet fallen flat on my face, but there's still plenty of time.
:-)
I once flashed a man in Reno just to watch him cry :)
Peace - Rene
Rene, I now owe you a beer. Seriously.
And now I have to find Johnny Cash on my iPod...
Hi Pearl,
This is my first excursion into the world of "all things Pearl". I found this post to be both witty and humorous. I believe a conversation with you would border on hilarious adventurism.
Like you, I have scars but I don't have the gift. I started with the idea to expunge those internal scars that served as historical and chronological reminders of my past. I'm finding that although they won't leave (voluntarily), they no longer pain me to talk about them.
Thanks for letting me visit your world.
underOvr
seriously? i loved this post and i'm with "idi...errr "ninja boy" down there doing the twirly thing.
what he said!
Dueling scar from Heidelberg, of oourse. I have one on my wrist from falling off my bike at age 12. Is that romantic enough?
My fater actually fought in the Golden Gloves. Back when boxing was legit. so what's your record?
You crack me up. .....and yet....I really like this idea of lying about your scars. I have so many. Oh the stories I could tell/make up. Great post!
The irony is I usually make up docile stories about my scars.
Shrapnel wounds aren’t as cool as they sound; especially when the Army docs are too lazy to remove all of it. I had a buddy whose shrapnel came loose and started working its way out of his back. We all thought it was a pimple and tried to help him pop it for a week before the medic put one and one together and yelled at us. That didn’t have the desired effect as we tried even harder to pop it all the way to the hospital.
We all wanted to see if the shrapnel, when placed under his pillow, would beckon the IED Fairy to come and give him a dollar.
Your wounds must warrant some recognition no matter how tame and ridiculous. I’ll put you in for a magenta heart medal.
underOVR, over out. Sorry, quick “Airplane” flashback there. You know, I do what I can to amuse. I think that’s why I’m here… Anyway, I’m glad you stopped by and have you on my list of things to read this weekend.
Mouthy Irish, it’s strange how often he nails it on the head, isn’t it?
Ian, and it is the romance, isn’t it? Now if I had a scar on my wrist, I’d probably make up a story about having had to chew through the leather straps during my imprisonment while searching the Amazon for cures for cancer, ala Serpent And The Rainbow. :-)
The Grandpa, did he? Boxing is one of the few sports I actually give a rat’s ass about. :-) To tell the truth – and why not?! – I’ve taken three boxing lessons. Just never have enough money/time to add this to my list of things I’m doing. I do throw some convincing looking punches at myself in the mirror, but that’s about it!
Icky, oOoOooOoOOoooh! Think of the scar and the stories you’ll tell! (Sorry about how your pants are fitting!)
Smart Mouth Broad, I’m pretty sure that 95% of the people I’m goofing off with and talking about scars know I’m full of it. The other five percent? Meh! I think you should write about your favorite scar. But that’s just me.
De Campo, I suspect you have some genuine scars as opposed to my “and here’s where I burnt myself on the roasting pan” sort of thing.
Hopefully, the opportunity to squeeze something and have shrapnel pop out will never present itself to me. But if it does, what do you suppose the IED Fairy leaves under your pillow? Oh, I wish I could draw right now. I really want to see what that chick looks like.
Oh, and a magenta heart? Nice.
Pearl, after our schlager contest at the Heidelberg Verbindung I owe you WAY more than a beer!
(I got challenged to a drinking contest in a Verbindung (Fraternity) once and as I was drunk I accepted and lost. Turned out it was for my (then) girlfriend. Welching on a bet there is not advised, I speak from experience....)
I have a circular scar on the inside of my upper arm that I got at 19 in a nightclub...I raised my arm to wave at someone and a guy with a cigarette walked into it. It hardly hurt but it scarred. On the opposite side is another similiar scar. I tell everyone it was a bullet, and I've never had anyone NOT believe me.
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