I’ve booked an appointment with my GP on Monday to discuss the possibility of some sort of surgery on my scars. Wish me luck! The most nerve-wracking part of will be showing my arms. I might go in with my bum out to soften the blow.
Although I have scars on my bum, too, due an over-enthusiastic dog that I met when I was ten. It became intimately acquainted with my legs and arse. It looked like this:
As a result, facked fans, I have a slightly deformed looking arse! On the plus side, I got two weeks off school AND a box of Quality Street from the lollipop lady who bopped Lassie on the head with her stick.
Magic moments are when a dog is mauling you…
Two things will possibly push me to pick up the glass and pills that will send me to sleep, though- one being that my sister and her boyfriend are coming to stay tomorrow, and two being that I have to give a presentation at college and people are having trouble following my speech and train of thought. Why can’t I just record it, then come out at the end, grasping peoples’ hands then take off in a helicopter? Eh? Bloody adult education and its low budget for obnoxious stunts. I’d have to come back anyway, but still. I’m going to bring my dictaphone in and record the lesson because my arse memory means I tend to leave and go, “Wait, where was I?”
So, er, that’s where I am! Hiya!