I'm in the wars....

I bruise like a peach, and at the moment, I look like a peach farm. There's a huge one on my left calf where I walked into a drawer while attempting to stealthily steal rocky road. I have three in a row just above my right knee from pushing trolleys around at work. Both my left and right forearms have little egg-shaped purple patches. My left elbow is bruised. My right wrist is bruised.

I have mosquito bites on my feet, on my legs, on my side, on my back. I have a cut down the length of my middle finger that I sustained opening a bottle of beer (yes, kids, alcohol is very bad for you- in more ways than one).

Then, there's the sunburn. See, everyone says the reason that I burn so easily is because of my Irish heritage. But my rello's haven't lived in Ireland for nearly two hundred years- we were convicts, k? So, why do I have to still suffer? Shouldn't I be a bronzed up Aussie by now? No, I still slather myself religiously with sunscreen every morning. Except, Monday morning, I accidently missed a few spots, and now I look like I'm wearing a pair of red thigh-high stockings.

Pity party, table one.