Instead of reaching for a band-aid, I reach for a camera.
The chunk of (dirty) finger I cut off while cutting wire.
My wedding ring on the wrong finger. It no longer fits on my ring finger because of all the weight I've lost forgetting to eat while wrapped up in a project. I should market it as the etsy diet!
7-8 written on my hand to keep track of the amount of oval bezels of 18x13mm size while trolling the net for goodies.
And now, I'm going to go wash my hand, since as I type, I still have blood dripping down my hand. You know when you get scars from doing stuff you're crazy about, you always wear them with pride.