It was a normal Saturday morning. Woke up, chatted it up with the hubs about what was on the to do list for that day, the usual. I decided to jump in the shower before I did anything else and thought “Oh, I better shave my legs, I’ll have to be in a bathing suit later on” because well, that’s just necessary. Maybe it’s not the greatest idea to shave when still a little groggy and it’s also probably not the greatest idea to shave when you’re in a rush either because then things like this happen…
Lucky for me I always shower with my phone nearby because we all know this much blood just SCREAMS photo op.
When this first happened it didn’t hurt, I just saw a strip of white appear after I ran the razor over my leg and thought “okay, here we go again” (because sadly enough, this is not the first time this has happened). My subsequent thoughts were “damnit, it’s summertime!! How am I gonna hide this?” and then “Wow, I forgot how bad soap burns in open wounds”. What happened, if you can't already tell, was that horrible razor of death ripped a layer of skin off my leg. Actually, it was probably multiple layers judging by the crater that now resides on my leg.
I finally got the bleeding to stop and rushed to show Ryan my battle wound, like it was some sort of prize. He considered a trip to the hospital, I laughed, then we moved on with our day. It started to not look so bad as the day went on, the chlorine from the pool helped it out a little (I think).
Fast forward to today when some of the ladies in my office got a glimpse of it. I work with a bunch of mothers so I was eventually guilted into putting a little neosporin on it. That's when things got nuts.
The area that was always red turned white, the area around the cut got red, and my leg started throbbing. Talk of tetanus shots and flesh eating disease started. Great, death by razor always seemed like a neat way to leave this world.
I left work with strict instructions on how to care for my wound- rinse with peroxide, pat it dry, repeat, coat with neosporin, and cover with bandaids.
And that's precisely what I did, all in an effort to avoid a dreaded Dr's appointment. So what's there left to do now but limp around on my bum leg and try to get sympathy from anyone who may care in the slightest? Not much, not much at all..