Boob-e-trapped.

Stop it. Stop being gross. Yes, I am talking about my boobs, but stop it. This isn't that kind of website. This is a serious topic that I've been wanting to share with you all for sometime and I was not sure how to go about it. So, I waited. But I can't wait anymore. No. Not. Anymore. It must be shared. Here it goes. 

My boob. 

Last week I was getting ready. (Stop it) and I wanted to curl my hair, because I did, ok? And my hair has grown a bit and I wasn't paying all that much attention because I was belting out to this:

And I went to hit the high note (no there isn't a high note, no this was not the song I was really listening too) and my curling iron dislodged from my hair and my hand grasp. At that moment I made a rash, illogical choice to grab my chesticals (It's a word. I made it up. Deal) instead of the curling iron itself and prolonged the burning by doing so. It was awful. I now have battle scars. 

Now I debated putting up a picture. Obviously, I did not want to scar you for life...like I may be if the massive amounts of plastic surgery and therapy do not work properly. But I thought I would give you an image into the mangled remains that are my chesticals. Well, on of them. Be prepared. This is something that you cannot unsee. You have been warned. Oh the carnage. Oh the humanity. Oh the. Boob: 

Gross scar. Note the handle burn. And no this is not inappropriate. Stop being stupid.