I currently wear as a badge of honor, a rash. A testament of my foolishness. Let me explain. In a recent post, I described a lovely day spent at our county fair, husband and mother-in-law in tow. When we first entered said fair, they took my ticket and help out a red-inked, horse and rider stamp to thus mark my body. This way they could seperate me easily from all those that did not pay and snuck into the fair. Anyway, here's the foolish part: I held out my hand and let that cowboy-hat wearing man stamp the back of my hand. I know, you're asking yourself, what is she talking about? I can see more explanation is needed.
When I was but a wee girl, and before I completely understood cause and effect, my mother warned me when going to campmeeting or other similar events, not to let the nice people stamp my hand. It would make my skin sick; I was allergic to the ink. Thus I would cause much consternation when arriving to an event and promptly turning my hand over for the 'nice' people to stamp my palm. Some wouldn't let me. They'd say, "I can't stamp that side because the ink would rub off and then we wouldn't know if you're a stay-er or a go-er." Kids who knew the way back to their trailer or tent, got a green stamp: go-ers. Those who were supposed to stay and get picked up by a parent or family member got a red stamp: stay-ers. So I avoided most rashes; more as I got older and more adamant. But still a few rashes were had.
It had been SO long since I'd stamped my hand, I literally thought to myself, "It's been so long. I'm probably not allergic anymore. I'm not going to say anything." Stupid. SO Stupid.
And now a demonstration, 9 days after the incident:
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