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Cigarettes: they cause more than cancer!

All right, I know what you're thinking; 'aw man, not another Toad story, this chicks MESSED UP!' And its sort of true.. if you just read the experiences I submit to BME you would think I had no common sense about me. But I have some, enough to know that when I start out on a 'mission of mod' I usually take horrible unnecessary risks, and I don't recommend any one going this route, but people do, and I happen to be a person, so I make mistakes. Quite a few of them really, when I think about it. But that's not what this is about.. this is about how I came to have this lovely star-shaped brand on my wrist.

It all started about a year ago, while I was chillin' wit my homies in the barrio of Alvin, Texas. (And yea, Alvin does have a barrio.) So here I am, this freaky white stoner chick, sitting at a kitchen table with two other individuals, who, at the time, were my best friends. We were (of course) smoking some (quite good) marijuana, and drinking and generally having fun. Well as much fun as you can have being drunk and high at a kitchen table in Shitsville-Alvin. Well, after I get bored with talking I turn to drawing on a piece of cardboard. And what I drew were stars.. lots of pretty, metallic purple ink stars. I was in love. I had made up my mind then and there that I was going to have this a part of me no matter what. And I knew just the way: Burn it into myself- very symbolic to a not-very-sober person. I consulted my friends on the subject. They thought that that would be interesting. Actually it was more like: (me holding up the piece of cardboard) "Hey man, look, would n't it be wicked if I burned a star on my arm?" (yeah, I really talk like that normally too.) they said, "oh, yeah, that would be.. cool." Such enthusiasm. So I set about finding a candle and some metal object with which to burn myself with. Being in the state I was, I am lucky I didn't find anything useful in that house. I returned to the table empty handed, and gave up on the plan for the time being. But by god I was getting my damned star.

After that night, I had wanted this done bad. I didn't know when and where, or even how. (I am not that picky about technique, as you will soon find out) soon I found out I was moving to San Marcos, Texas, and I would not get to see my (then) best friends all that often anymore. Soon we had packed up our house, moved most of our stuff to our new house in the hill country. I had come back for one last load and I was now 'home alone' with my friend, a big empty house, a large amount of weed and nothing to do. So we went to the garage, which was the 'chill place', because the only couch left was in there along with the radio and some old books. We proceeded to slowly deplete the bag of bud, and eventually I got sick of talking and decided to smoke a cigarette on the other side of the garage. I found a pen in a box of books and began drawing on the box. Then I happened. The pen, the cardboard boxes, the smell of stale smoky air.. Tonight was the night. I would have my star.

But, oh the horrors, I had even less items of usefulness at my disposal here than at my friends house! I had no steady heat source, only my trusty lighter, and no object with which to burn the fuck out of myself. In retrospect, I could have went wandering around the empty property until I came upon something, anything, that would have worked, but the stoned me is lazy, much like the sober me, and I stayed in the garage and made due with what I had. I am such a trooper. What there was wasn't much, but it would be enough for me, a goddamned trooper. I took inventory. A lighter, a pen, a radio, a assortment of books about a dime left of the dope, a pack of cigarettes, a pack of zigzags and a couch. Not the greatest, but its more than Gilligan had on the island. I lit up a cigarette and pondered my situation. Then it hit me like falling ash: I had my answer in my fingertips. My (stolen) pack of Virginia Slim Menthol Lights!! I've had/seen cigarette burns before, and thought wha t the hell, why not do it this way.. being in the mindset to "burn the fuck" out of myself. (Notice I was not consulting my friend this time.. as we grew older, we grew apart) so I made up my mind. It was going to happen tonight. I decided to go with my wrist, on the top, being right handed and all. I knew it was nearly impossible to do decent line work with a cigarette. (of all things.. I feel really stupid for doing it this way.. but you cant change the past.) so I used the pen to mark 5 dots on my wrist.. The dots marking the points of the "star" which, now that I think about it, is more like a circle. When I was happy with the layout, I took my cigarette and blew off the ash, so that the cherry was nice and exposed. (getting kind of sexual, eh?) I carefully touched it to the first dot. The pain was bearable. So I tried to burn each dot the same amount of time, going over them several times for good luck. Then I was done. I looked at it and it just look kind of pink, then I saw these huge blisters start to form. That was awesome. And I
had my star, no matter how half-assed it was. I am happy with it. After-care consisted of: nothing. The blisters got popped and it was never painful, didn't get infected, and my parents didn't lock me away like they had promised if I "ever mutilated my body again." (this wasn't the first time) so now I have my star, and I'm happy with it.

Details

submitted by: Anonymous
on: 26 March 2002
in Scarification

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Artist: myself
Studio: my+garage
Location: Alvin%2C+Texas

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