Warning: this post contains pointless and inappropriate details about my healing injuries. I only wish a had a small child that I could pretend to be telling the story about ...
I know that scabs are nature's way of providing a clean, sealed environment within which our wounds can properly heal ... but I just can't resist picking off scabs as soon as they start to show a little wear around the edges. I mean it's little bits of skin just hanging around looking grotty and in need of picking!
Imagine my excitement as my all consuming burn slowly dries up and starts to do this weird snakeskin-y thing which I've never seen before (possibly because I've never been able to leave a blister alone before). Yesterday, a little crack appeared at the joint where my index finger meets my palm and I had to convince myself that I hadn't noticed it, and that it would be better for everyone if I just left it alone until it reached a prime state for picking.
The anticipation nearly killed me.
Today as I happened to be gazing intently at my non-blister over lunch I came to the conclusion that prime pickability had been reached. Despite advice to the contrary I began and it truly was almost all I expected it to be. Actually, the only let down is that the burn itself is tingling a little and probably could have done with a few more days sub-scab (which totally ruins the point of picking). And the fact that I'm starting to get the post-pick blues. I'll be ok though.
This post is dedicated to my flatmate who cannot bear the thought of flaky, dry skin. Ever since I found out this fact I've felt the need to hide my poor worn heels and make sure that any dandruff that shows up at the oddest times is out of her line of sight.