Showing posts with label scars. Show all posts
Showing posts with label scars. Show all posts

The Scars We Bear

Monday, June 23, 2008

I went into Photoshop to revise my picture over there on the left. I'm new to the software and wanted to play around with the color and remove a few more strands of flyaway hair (anal AND a little vain, that's me!).

Just for kicks, I got rid of the keloid scars on my chest. And it made me tear up a little. I've had them so long, I don't remember what it's like NOT to have them. But seeing me scar free and smooth made me sad. This is the real me, the me I want people to see instead of my scars.

I hate these scars. I don't really remember how I got them but I hate them. They itch. Buttons, zippers and rough fabric irritate them. The seatbelt constantly rubs against them. People stare and kids point at them. I'm embarrassed by them. They make me feel ugly. Even on my best hair, make-up, and outfit day, the scars still ruin it a little. And I don't like having my picture taken. In any photo of me, they are always all I see.

I'm not as confident as I used to be but I can fake it. I'll buy a low cut top or dress because it looks good everywhere else but I'm convinced everyone is staring and thinking, "she'd be kind of pretty if it weren't for those ugly scars."

If they weren't smack in the center of my chest, I'd probably forget all about them. But, they are right there, staring back at me in the mirror. All the time.

It's a Catch 22: I don't want them showing, but I spend so much time scratching when I cover them it's just not worth it.

I try to tell myself to get over it. That they really aren't a big deal. If two scars are the worst thing in my life I should count my blessings and quit whining.

I've caught people staring and pointing. Someone asked me if they were a tattoo. I'd had a few Midoris one night and caught a guy at bar, staring. He apologized and gave the usual, "do you mind my asking what those are?" I told him they were scars left over from heart surgery where I almost died and it was hard for me to talk about it.

He looked horrified and apologized some more for bringing it up. I felt bad and fessed up. I said I got kind of tired of people asking about something that makes me feel so self conscious and that I try hard to forget. He still felt really bad and I got a free drink out of it.

I think we all have scars of some kind, physical or emotional. And they can be so crippling can't they? In the grand scheme of things mine are such a minor thing but they can alter my mood just like that [snap].

I wasn't planning to blog about it but since it made me emotional and I want to be as "real" as possible on this blog I started typing before I could chicken out. Do you have any scars (of either kind)? Do they get in the way of you living your life? How do you handle them?
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