Yesterday was my grandma's birthday celebration. Most of my family was there, including my parents and my beloved little sister.
The vast majority of my day was spent fielding the following question:
"WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR ARM?"
Because, yeah. This:
I am one of the ever-so-fortunate people who have the aptly named, "Stress-induced breakouts." Last year, I started getting this lovely eczema-type disturbance all over my legs and feet. I went to a dermatologist who ran numerous tests, found I was allergic to nothing, determined I wasn't really lying about not bathing in poison ivy, and finally asked me if I was stressed out. Which of course, I was.
Before I married my first husband, I broke out like this. All over my chest. ALL over it. I looked like I had the chicken pox in my wedding pictures.
Could that have been a sign? Probably. I was just young and stupid and didn't recognize it.
But anyway. Yeah. That's just not attractive.