Weird Injury Wednesday

I have a bald spot in my left eyebrow. Seriously, I'm so self-conscious about it that I eventually had to start coloring it in with brown eyeliner pencil.

My eyebrow wasn't always like that though. Before my first-year of college, I had a perfectly normal eyebrow. Well, two eyebrows. I didn't have a uni-brow or anything.

It all started when I was just a few months old. Emily decided to hold her baby sister for the first time (without parent supervision). My mom walked into the living room and said "Emily, please ask permission before you hold the baby. Now put your sister down." So being the great older sister that she is, she dropped me on the spot and I hit my head. (Spoiler Alert: I lived.)

That's when the Middle Child Syndrome begun. Every time I go on vacation or leave my bed, I acquire some illness or bizarre injury. Hence, freshman year of college where I lost a third of my eyebrow.

I was doing laundry in my dorm's laundry room, where mismatched socks and random pairs of dirty underwear go to die. While I was transferring my wet clothes from a washer to a dryer across the room, I couldn't see the floor over my huge mound of clothing. That's when it happened.

My foot slipped on a dryer sheet, and BAM! My forehead smacked into the dryer. My wet clothes fell to the ground as my blood speckled the white tile. Thank goodness for adrenaline (and disorientation and slight concussions). The sight of blood usually causes me to throw up, pass out or both. But I managed to get all my clothes in the vicious dryer (because I clearly wanted clean clothes when I got out of the Emergency Room).

I walked back to my bedroom in a daze with blood pouring from my head. People in the dorm stared at me, but no one offered to help me, so that was cool. When I walked into my dorm room, my roommate didn't say anything to me until I asked if she had any band-aids. It was as if I came back every night with a bloody face.

Eventually, I went to the on-campus health clinic because the Band-Aid wouldn't stick to my bloody, now bald eyebrow. I'm now known there as the eyebrow girl.

One shot and five stiches later, my eyebrow looked like some bug had built it's home comfortably on my eyelid, which was really uncomfortable later that night when I had to play drums and dance in the middle of the campus commons with only one eye. (But that's another story)

As you can imagine, I don't show this picture to people very often. But here's my bug nest of an eyebrow.

I called my Dad after I got my stiches to tell him, "hey, your daughter just got five stiches in her head," but he didn't answer. And like every middle child will tell you, he called back the next day. Because when your middle daughter is calling from the hospital, how important can it be?

Just another day in the life of a middle child. Don't worry, I went back to the laundry room later that night to clean the blood splattered on the floor and fold my clean laundry. Moral of the story: throw away your dryer sheets please.