As a little kid, I constantly had cuts, scrapes, and bruises all over my legs. A combination of mild eczema and a klutziness that has followed me into young adulthood meant my legs were never in pristine condition. However, most little kids are like that. Kids get hurt and are resilient and those playground scrapes are often how we learn not to sweat the small stuff.
However, for the past six years or so, I've been too old to hang out with the playground crowd and my legs have been more or less unharmed. Except for the occasional cut from shaving (a malady I never experienced during the playground years), I rarely made use of band aids or Neosporin.
This summer, however, I spent nine weeks as a counselor at sleepaway camp. My legs took a beating. Aside from the cuts and bruises that are simply an occupation hazard of camp counselor-dom, I also was eaten alive by bugs. This isn't an odd occurrence at camp. No one expects you to be beautiful at summer camp. Obviously we don't walk around like slobs, but if you're legs are covered in battle wounds from the never ending war with bugs, you're probably in the majority.
Today I started my senior year of high school. I wore shorts and my bug bite ridden legs were visible for all to see. I wasn't self-conscious per say, just hyper aware of the fact that no one else had legs like mine. Although I was on some level aware of the fact that today was my thirteenth and last first day of school with the people I have spent my entire life with, I was completely conscious of the fact that I was no longer with the people I had spent nine weeks of my life with. Camp is over, and I have to say being campsick is a pretty terrible feeling.
I started this blog in sixth grade. I'm a senior in high school. How time flies.