I have a bad habit of literally the weakest impulse control known to man. If it itches, I will scratch it. And thus, I have bumps, bruises, and scars on my legs, arms, and well, everywhere of things that have bitten, scratched, or stung me in the recent past.

Funny again, what I ultimately planned on discussing and what comes to mind at 10 pm when I’m actually writing are two completely different things. Tomorrow is my wedding anniversary, and I planned on talking about the special anniversary workout I made up for me and my husband. Instead, I’m talking about the little annoyances of experiencing nature.

Ever since I was a little girl, I have been everyone else’s best mosquito repellent. No one else has to worry about mosquito bites when I’m around. They all flock to me. I don’t know why. I am not a sweet person. I guess my blood makes up for my personality. It’s like compensating for something…

I know I should spray myself with some sort of repellent, but I always forget. Hell, I’m lucky if I remember to apply sunscreen, especially AFTER I’ve swam and before I’m about to go out in the sun. Normally the only time I remember to apply sunscreen is right before I’m about to go…indoors for something- Masters class, writing group, Toastmasters. If I’m about to do an outdoor workout, or maintain some gorgeous parks, I’m almost guaranteed to forget it.

Which brings me to my greatest vice. Bug bites. They are hideous, and my sensitive skin can’t stop me from scratching. But do I do anything to prevent it? Oh no, that would be sanity.

Instead, I meander through the campground rounds at work at 8:30 pm, without a care in the world. And then at 11:00 at night, I wonder what the hell bit the shit out me and left these grotesque marks on my skin. 

On my wrist, it looks like a miniature vampire bit me. I can’t decide whether to be proud of the initiation I have received, or to hide it. I mean, a vampire must have bit me, which means, since I didn’t die, I must now be a vampire. And that’s cool, right? I’m a vampire who cooks mean strawberry rhubarb pies and swims like an otter.

I don’t know, it’s either a mini-vampire or some sort of gigantic mega-spider. And I’d rather not think of that…