This happens so rarely in my adult life that I am finding it rather exhilarating. I was riding my bicycle a few nights ago, and hit some sort of obstacle (it was dark, so I didn’t see it), and thus spilled myself onto the pavement at about 20 miles per hour.
Which hurts.
No-one (neither the bike nor myself) was permanently damaged, but I (as the biological component) received a good case of what is known as “road rash.” To be blunt, I left a good amount of epidermis behind, and limped home without it (I also broke some chunks out of my helmet, so it’s a good thing I was wearing one. It could have been my skull. People: WEAR YOUR HELMET!!!).
This was about four days ago.
So now I have scabs. LOTS of them.
I don’t mean to stereotype, but it’s been my experience that the fascination with scabs is mostly a “boy thing”. You pick at 'em, you scratch at 'em, you embroil yourself in their evolution. This is quite possibly the most scabs I’ve ever had at one time in my entire life, and I fully intend to indulge this privilege to my heart’s content.
OK, now I am beginning to understand the kids’ fascination with over the top skateboard tricks…they don’t care if they crash and burn, because afterward…
**BoBettie:**It’s all clean, but I’m still gonna pick it…with a vengeance!
You betcha. I’m prime picking material: both shins, both knees, both forearms, and both hands. I’m a glorious mess at the moment. Come and get me. :D:D:D
It’s okay, I bet even Ron Jeremy would describe his love life as “inadequate”.
More is good. More than that is definitely gooder.
Getting some and getting pait for it is most gooderest.
I fell out of the back of a jeep once. I was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. The jeep was going downhill on an asphalt road.
The next morning I discovered that I had “healed” to the bed sheets. No good.
For some real fun, go to a swimming pool. I did. After a little while in the water, the scabs turn kind of a pale green and get sort of soft and runny. Then climb out of the pool and walk over to the snack bar.
Well, I swam in high school. Apparently, freshmen had to shave their heads…and their everything else. So, when I was shaving my legs, I scarred them up pretty bad. Sorry, I’m just not proficient in shaving my legs. Anywhoot, after it felt funny and I pulled the razor up and there were long strips of skin hanging from it, I figured I pressed too hard.
So, I put gauze on the long shin-wounds. Except, the blood clotted and the gauze stuck in my shins. Yeah, that was fun opening them back up again.
First I thought the OP was about scab, you know that skin disease you get from mites :smack:
Anyway, scab as in that crust that formes after you cut yourself, that is a bit more pleasant, I mean, I pick them too. Cant resist. Also, when scubadiving at coralreefs, it is very easy to get cut and scraped. Having all the little fish picking at the scab can be a bit scary at first, but after a while it is kind of soothing. Mhhh, fiiiish… ooooooh, big fish! Run away! Run away!
I’m constantly covered with bruises and scabs. I suffer from an ailment known as Congenital Clumsiness, inherited from my mother, who is so clumsy I cannot explain the fact that she yet lives.
I’ve told this story many times on this board, but I’ll tell it again for those who haven’t heard it to illustrate how bruised I am from bashing into stationary objects all the time.
I went to my gyno for my yearly checkup. After the exam, she sat me down and asked me if I was being hit at home.
“Oh, no,” I said with a little laugh. “I’m just really clumsy.”
I could tell she didn’t believe me. She offered me her home phone number and said I could call her at any time, 24-7 and she would come to get me and take me to a safe place she knew. I was sort of touched, because how often do doctors give you their home phone numbers? Plus, she lived about an hour away.
I tried to convince her that I really wasn’t being abused-- I’m just an incredible clutz. She still didn’t believe me until I got up to leave the office and tripped over her rolling stool. After seeing me do that, she never said anything about it again.
Man, it’s better to never let them scab over. Keep them wet!
I used to hate cleaning out road rash until I realized that the pain would throb: Hurt like hell for about 15 seconds, then numb for 15 seconds. Scrub like hell when it’s numb, scream like hell when it hurts, scrub, scream, scrub, scream…
No, NO! If they’re wet, all you can do is mush them around. Letting them scab so you can tear the suckers off and enjoy the exquisiteness of the sensation is infinitely better.
There is something very wrong with you. I am going to try this (did I mention that I also nearly managed to detach the tip of my right pinky finger? It’s almost come completely loose, now).
Lissa: I’ll pick your scabs if you pick mine. For some reason, this seems wonderfully erotic to me. I’m not sure what to think of myself because of it, but still…
