Contrasts in color have always fascinated me. Especially when these contrasts are taking place on bodies.
Take tanlines in the summer for instance, I love the days when the sickly white of my ‘winterlook’ is sharply marked against the crisp golden brown of sunkissed skin. Mostly because I get reaaaally pale when I don’t leave the house (which is most of the time) but tan veeeeery thoroughly when I do get in the sun.
Or take finding yourself in bed with someone, draping your arm over a chest that is an entirely different tone to yours, and marvelling at how someone so different can feel so close to you.
And much in that same line, I have always had a fascination for bruises.
Which is fucking convenient – because I’m definitely the Nathalie Bedingfield of damn bruising.
I. Bruise. Easily.
What’s worse: oftentimes I bruise deeply from completely and unknown sources. Seriously. Waking up in the mornings is always an exciting moment, as that allows me the chance to make an overview of a whole array of new bruises that popped up out of nowhere. They’re like puzzles to solve. Although, most days – my theory is only that I must be a sleepwalking ninja. There’s no other explanation.
My mom used to call these types of bruises ‘UPO’s. Aka Unidentified Party Objects. Mostly because they’re the types of bruises you usually seem to end up with when memories of the night before are kind of blurry and corners and edges of tables, doors and bikes may have been hard to avoid due to excessive intake.
I was extremely proud a few weeks back when I’d solved the mystery of the constantly bruised insides of my legs at knee height. Especially since, next to getting them easily – I heal extreeeemely slowly so they’re there forever. I swear – I looked like a spotted leopard at some point. Until I realized that all my weightloss had let to my knees getting a LOT more bony, and my preferred sleepstyle (sideways with a poor abused pillow jammed between my legs) was not saving me from banging my knees together every time I was trying to get comfortable. Bruise central!
But this easily-bruising-ness also brings along some difficulties in summer. Every softball that hits my legs (which are a lot) = a bruise. Every bump, tap, brush = bruises. Every –insert very normal activity– = bruises. Which tends to mean that my gorgeous legs tend to be so full of blemishes that I’m forced to cover them even in the heat (lest people start worrying at my domestic status). Especially since I have no idea on where I’m getting most of them (and thus, can’t explain them to curious enquirers) nor any clue as to how to prevent myself from bruising. Plus, the fact that I think they’re pretty doesn’t really help either, I suppose.
This week I’ve been working on the puzzle of my wrist. A huge ass (and deep!) bruise appeared there out of nothing a week and a half ago and has been eeeeever so slowly fading. And as of yet I still have…0…clue…where I got it. I mean – it was humongous the first couple o’ days. And sore enough to make one assume one must’ve felt it happening at some point. But nope. No idea. I did not get in a fight with any furniture (or people for that matter) and can think of no other reason as to how my wrist turned into a rainbow. It’s excruciating – the not knowing!
And so pretty!