Scarred

MY definition: Ugly, gross, and disgusting. A quick way to scare someone off. Life threatening in terms of "not being perfect." Poor me!

Now try this one: These scars represent the fight and struggle I went through to be as healthy as I am today. They tell a story about a strong-willed girl, who wasn't even supposed to live. Yeah, I'll go with this one!

Story 1: Jill and I were in the same pre-school class. We were shy and a bit timid, but we had each other. One day, we both wore dresses to school and for some reason I was extra shy that day. I wanted to hide, so I went with the "if I can't see you, then you can't see me" move. I pulled my dress over my head, leaving a view of my stomach to all the other children. They began to laugh, point fingers, and say mean things. We all know how cruel kids can be! I went home crying, not understanding what was so funny. I don't even think I was aware that I had these huge scars on my stomach or maybe it just wasn't a big deal to me at the time.

Even though, my "negative" seed was already planted, I do have to share a positive side of the story. My dad saw how upset and embarrassed I was. He then took some markers and drew pictures around my scars to make them look "pretty." I was proud and showed them off to all the kids the next day...they became envious and wanted some too.

If only my story would've ended there, my scars probably wouldn't have affected me the way they have throughout my whole life...

Story 2: This story takes place at a girl's slumber party. I think we were in second or third grade at the time. One girl knew about my scars and asked me to show them to her. I said no hoping the topic would go away. As we gathered around the campfire, the same girl ran up to me and pulled my shirt up for everyone to see. It was completely out of the blue, so it was hard to comprehend and react to what just happened. All the girls started laughing, which made me run into the house crying. The little girl "had" to apologize, but it didn't make me feel any better.

From that moment on, it was difficult for me to show my scars, especially to those I wanted to be involved with.No matter how many times they told me my scars were beautiful, I didn't believe it.I was so focused on how ugly they were instead of why I got them and how they saved my life. It didn't help that I got another big scar after my 2nd and 3rd surgery. I'm still dealing with it, trying to accept the fact that I will ALWAYS have them. And, because it is out of my control, I'm left with only one option: To accept them for what they are, not how I interpret them.