Y'know when you're stripping wallpaper off the wall, right, and you grab the top/bottom of a strip, right, and it all comes off in one *really* *satisfying* chunk rather than coming off in tiny scrappy little bits that stick to the walls, the floor, the new wallpaper and your head?
That's what the skin on my shoulders is doing right now. I feel like I should be disgusted. But it's *fun*!!! It's like when I used to paint PVA glue on my hands and then pull it off when it dried, pretending it was my skin... except it *is* my skin!
Hehehe. Who've I freaked out now? =)
*Personal note- put the book down and step away from the sun, slowly.*
That's what the skin on my shoulders is doing right now. I feel like I should be disgusted. But it's *fun*!!! It's like when I used to paint PVA glue on my hands and then pull it off when it dried, pretending it was my skin... except it *is* my skin!
Hehehe. Who've I freaked out now? =)
*Personal note- put the book down and step away from the sun, slowly.*
no subject
Date: 2003-07-10 08:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-10 11:04 am (UTC)So. Anyway. A few weeks later, when the new skin has started to grow back enough to slough its dead (and rather papery, I might add) predecessor, my mom and I went to Wal-Mart. Being the obnoxious 13-year-old I was, I wandered off on my own, scratching at my wounds and generally leaving a thin trail of shavings.
Now, one of these shavings was a chunk of skin the size of my hand that would NOT come off, no matter how much I poked it. It had finally fluttered loose that morning, and I was desperate to get it off. (Anyway, the bits that came off rocked!) I was scratching at it in the middle of the accessories section and just got sick of it. I wrapped my fingers around a loose edge and peeled that sucker clean off.
... Only to glance to my left and see a woman standing there, a $2.49 scarf falling limp in her hands as her mouth fell open in silent horror at the apparent Living Dead (or possible leper) standing duck-footed before her. I grinned, she made a croaking sound, and the last I saw of her before the fateful follow-up grin/flight of terror in the craft section was the back of her flowered blouse as the scarf slowly fluttered to the ground.
God, the things that find themselves on my "My Happiest Memories" list. *grin*