About a month ago, I managed to let my attention shift away from my blade and actually turned into a nice slice with my straight. I'll tell you, it bled. It bled like a...well like a razor blade, undeterred through my baby-soft skin.
That little white pencil? Worthless against its rage. Pressure with a towel? A temporary relief, foolishly shielding my eyes from what I knew would be there the second I took it away.
The sink turned scarlet and I felt my heart pounding through my chest, undoubtedly contributing to the high rate of blood loss. I let out a call to my fiancee purely designed to garner some sort of manufactured reassurance before I really took a look at the carnage. "Babe...I kind of cut myself. Can you come take a look? It's not that bad, right?"
"Holy crap", she says.
It almost made me give it up. I must have been asked ten times by colleagues "what happened?". I was sort of embarrassed, but kind of proud.
"These are the risks that come with such a beastly endeavor", I told myself. And none of them have the guts to try it. My own father won't even dare...and I share at least 50% of his genes.
Anyway, it healed. They always do, albeit sometimes in a slightly altered hue. Fortunately, the minor scar that remains is right on the jaw line, and is virtually indistinguishable from my natural pigment. Though it took a few days of recovery with a nice, friendly double-edge I like to call a Gillette Ball-End Tech, I got back on the wagon.
I think its the sound a straight razor makes that is so addicting to me. Something about it causes me to ignore my fear response. But in any event, that was my worst cut (thusfar). I would like to hear some other stories.
If you've cut yourself at least once, then you have a worst cut.
That little white pencil? Worthless against its rage. Pressure with a towel? A temporary relief, foolishly shielding my eyes from what I knew would be there the second I took it away.
The sink turned scarlet and I felt my heart pounding through my chest, undoubtedly contributing to the high rate of blood loss. I let out a call to my fiancee purely designed to garner some sort of manufactured reassurance before I really took a look at the carnage. "Babe...I kind of cut myself. Can you come take a look? It's not that bad, right?"
"Holy crap", she says.
It almost made me give it up. I must have been asked ten times by colleagues "what happened?". I was sort of embarrassed, but kind of proud.
"These are the risks that come with such a beastly endeavor", I told myself. And none of them have the guts to try it. My own father won't even dare...and I share at least 50% of his genes.
Anyway, it healed. They always do, albeit sometimes in a slightly altered hue. Fortunately, the minor scar that remains is right on the jaw line, and is virtually indistinguishable from my natural pigment. Though it took a few days of recovery with a nice, friendly double-edge I like to call a Gillette Ball-End Tech, I got back on the wagon.
I think its the sound a straight razor makes that is so addicting to me. Something about it causes me to ignore my fear response. But in any event, that was my worst cut (thusfar). I would like to hear some other stories.
If you've cut yourself at least once, then you have a worst cut.