Also, my fucking cutting scars.

Now that it’s short sleeve season I’m really feeling self-conscious about these fuckers. I don’t know if I can pass it off like I was trying to cut my cats claws and I got a swipe from his paw?

I’ve also spent considerable time and energy over the last couple of weeks investigating ways to cover this up. Cosmetically, I mean. Trying the entire gamut of concealers. Nothing is working. My arm is so pale that the vast majority of products make it look like I have a pink or peach or orange-ish patch on my arm, and then the few that I find a little more neutral just don’t stay on there. I guess I should buy a makeup setting spray.

Part of it is that it’s not just the color, it’s the texture, because I was just using shit on the ward and not like an actual blade, so it’s like I dug a little trenches into my arm that are sunken. I feel like I am going to need to get a tattoo to cover this up, because it makes me upset every time I look at them. Although I’m hard-pressed to think of a tattoo design that I’d want on the inside of my arm where the cuts are. I mean, I barely even scratched them. Honestly, like only enough for one drop of blood to fall off. Nowhere near even needing stitches. If I had known that like four months down the line I still have fucking scars, I might as well of gone to town. IMG_4760

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