Sometimes when I get bored beyond comprehension, I stare at my body parts.
I start off with my nails. I notice how unevenly cut they are, and I think about searching for tutorials to make me a better nail cutter of my own nails, but then again I’m too bored to function so I skip that part.
Next, I move on to my fingers. They’re long and slender but my hands are thin. I sometimes wish they’d gain a little bit of meat.
Then I look at my hands. Then stare at my palms and the mole in the middle of my pinky; sometimes I squeeze them for the heck of it. I trace my veins and take not of their color.
Then I proceed to looking at my arms. Pulling at the hair on my skin and laughing to myself because I have nothing to do. I count the moles I have on my arms. One time, I connected all of them with a black pen because I was bored. Hahahahahaha. I trace my scars and the memory of how I got them resurfaces in my mind. I’m still not sure if I should be thankful for them for giving me something to think about ot not.
I raise my legs and stare at my feet. I have my father’s feet and legs. He’s got a nice body, but he likes to ruin it by drinking and smoking. My feet are tiny and slim. They’re like… I don’t have anything to compare them to. Hahahaha
I look at my legs. I have a lot of bruises; especially on the knees. I’m clumsy and careless. Scars are there too. There’s one when I got when I was chased by a pig and fell down. That was really funny.
Then my thighs are next. There are a few bruises here and there. I close my legs and there’s a gap between my thighs. I find them weird.
I proceed to putting my head inside my shirt and stare at my breasts and stomach. I smile or laugh and roll in bed.