There's a lot of pink meat where it just used to be pale Daddy leg. I took 5 of the last 6 stitches out myself Saturday morning with a pair of fly tying scissors and tweezers.
Sitting there about 0600 with a cup of coffee ripping out stitches. I had the bright idea I'd save the last one for my kid. Woke him up all bleary eyed and told him to grip the stitch with the tweezers - said I was having trouble with the last one. I cut one thread and told him to tug gently. Of course the stitch came out smooth, with a little tickle, but I jumped up screamed "What the F** Damn. Crap the bed that burns". Faked a little cry and everything. Poor guy looked like he was going to puke while I busted out laughing. Sucks to be my son. That's all I can say
