Your Scars Tell a Story... What Do They Say?
Damaged Goods When I was 11 or 12, I was riding my bike with a friend when her dog ran in front of me and hit my front tire. I went tumbling over the handlebars and onto the gravel road. With three pieces of gravel stuck firmly into my knee and blood everywhere, I hobbled home while crying hysterically. My dad came to my rescue and did his best to comfort me and patch me up. I remember being horrified that he had to pull the rocks out and clean the nasty mess that was my
