Underappreciated: Bandaids

You know what’s extraordinarily underrated and underappreciated in this life? Band-Aids. Seriously.

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Throughout my entire childhood, I consistently heard the phrase, “Rub some dirt on it.” I was told to “suck it up” or “It will heal” and all of the other phrases that so many people have heard growing up. This doesn’t mean my parents were Nazis or anyone was trying to downplay the severity of my wounds. (But they were. Because I had fractured bones that were neglected until there was no way I could wear a cast or use super cool crutches.) They were trying to teach me valuable life lessons about being a grownup and not always having my way. It was important to know that not every cut and every bruise was the end of the world, and my pain tolerance was way higher than I thought it could be. These are valuable lessons to learn and I’m glad I did.

But you know what? Sometimes I’m bleeding and I won’t stop bleeding and it’s dumb to use sports tape or gauze and I just want a Band-Aid. Sometimes I’m not bleeding and I just feel broken and I need a sliver of tape to keep the pieces of my skin together so I don’t agitate a cut. Sometimes I have a blister or a cut and it won’t go away and it’s on my finger so I have to worry about hitting it on something ALL OF THE TIME.

Do you realize the quickness or intensity with which I type? Write? Take photos? I’m always using my fingers.

I was using my fingers at work one morning when I was cutting a lemon. I happened to be cutting the lemon with a butter knife, but that is neither here nor there. I cut through the lemon pretty quickly (Sawed. I sawed through it.) and hacked my finger. Then there was blood. There was so much blood. I ran my finger under cold water and simultaneously searched the cabinets for a first aid kit. Nothing. Because that job didn’t care about our health. (Seriously, it didn’t.)

They had a first aid kit. It existed. It was hidden.

And there were NO Band-Aids.

Sometimes you need a Band-Aid. I probably (no, certainly) needed more than Band-Aids. But I needed SOMETHING. So I had to wait for one of my coworkers to run to her car and frantically search for one. Thank goodness she had one, but we were SOL the next time someone needed a Band-Aid. And they did.

When I was working at a different job, I got a paper cut. Paper cuts aren’t that bad, but they hurt like hell. And it’s a persistent pain and I use my hands a lot at that job and handle a lot of paper. So here’s the flippin’ deal… MAKE SURE THERE ARE BAND-AIDS. I got made fun of when I asked for one. Then my manager was annoyed because they keep the BandAids in the vault. Yes, in the vault.

BAND-AIDS ARE LIKE GOLD. THEY KEEP THEM IN A VAULT.

But you know what? Sometimes I need a Band-Aid to cover a zit. Or a blister. Or I want to pretend I’m Nelly circa the 2000s and I want to own that persona.

Just let it happen.

I keep Band-Aids on me a lot. Most of the time. And they aren’t normal. So if you ever need a BandAid (to heal that broken heart of yours), expect one with a Disney Princess on it. Or hipster glasses. Or red lips.

Because I’m not normal. And my Band-Aids aren’t normal. But my pain goes away when it’s camouflaged.

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