Scars out, bitches

menchies

There were two choices laid out before me when I got home the hospital after my surgery, and removed that long bandage from chest. I could either buy a lot of scarves and shirts with high collars, which, if you’ve ever met me you know that’s a mistake. I have the smallest neck possible. My head is basically just sitting on my shoulders. I took a tape measure and tried to measure it one time. I couldn’t even get the tape measure in there. I mean, it’s great from a survival stand point. No one is choking me to death. Can’t get their hands there. It’s just not possible. But from a fashion stand point it’s been pretty depressing. I can’t wearing dangly earrings, scarves, or shirts with tall collars. Turtle necks stopped being cute after the age of six when one tried to smother me to death during a photo shoot. My mother loves those pictures. I try to remind her that I almost died that day, but she says I just look adorable.

Turtle necks aren’t supposed to cover your nose.

So, baring in my mind that I have no neck at all and I don’t really like wearing tons of jewelry especially just to camouflage my chest piece. It seemed clear to me. I was going to have to start flaunting my scar. It had unintended perks. My daughter was very worried about the world seeing my scar. I was flawed now, in a way that she could see.  I was fine at the house, but the second I wore regular clothes that showed the scar on my chest and neck she would get upset. The scars on my neck are from the IV put into my neck. It’s in a really cool pattern, so I’m not bothered by it. She would become worried about whether or not people would accept me, stare at me, or be grossed out by the sight of me. My daughter needed to see that I was still the same person, and I was beautiful even with a giant scar on my chest. I had to show her what confidence looked like by wearing it with my skin. So, that’s what I did.

I won’t say that people in restaurants don’t look at me like I’m gross because sometimes they do, or that people in stores don’t sometimes almost collide into things while staring. They do. That’s alright, it says more about them than it does about me and my scars. The only thing my scars say about me is that I’m alive. That I’m harder to kill than I used to think. I’m not as fragile as previously supposed. I’m sturdy. My daughter has learned a lot from watching me, and my scars. She has realized that you don’t have to be perfect to be accepted. That some people won’t accept you no matter what, but that’s alright because not everyone is worth being accepted by to feel validated. My scars have taught her a valuable lesson, and I’m so grateful for my short neck. Who knows. Maybe if I’d had a long willowy neck, I may have gone the other way.

Nah. I’m not that kind of person. I like making bitches uncomfortable while they eat. If you are uncomfortable with imperfect people you get what you get, and I don’t feel bad for you at all. We are all flawed. I just happen to carry one of mine on my chest.

I think we should all dust off our scars, and bring them out into the open. What have we got to lose? What are they really? Just bundles of tissue that prove how tough we are. Survivors. Bad asses, really. Who doesn’t want to show off what a bad ass they are? Got a huge scar from a fight with pirates? Show that beast off! Messed up with a chain saw? Brag about it and show it to everyone! There is nothing to be ashamed of. We’re human beings. We’re not supposed to be pristine. That goes against our inherent condition of being flawed. When you remember that it’s easier to accept yourself just the way you are:

Awesome as hell.

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5 thoughts on “Scars out, bitches

  1. Erin Burns May 13, 2015 / 11:14 pm

    Dude, I fell on a bow saw and have a scar running from my bottom lip and down and under my chin. I have another one on my throat from where a gnarly tumor was removed. It was gloriously purple on my wedding day. Did I put make up on it? Nope, because I am entirely too lazy for that ish. Scars fade, whether physically or in other people’s minds. Eventually they are just you.

    Liked by 1 person

    • wendyblack1 May 14, 2015 / 12:15 am

      Your scars are incredibly bad ass. Like, Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome bad ass. I think Tina Turner should just follow you around and sing ‘We don’t need another hero’.

      Like

  2. AO River!!!!! May 13, 2015 / 11:38 pm

    I have a giant scar from my Chachas to my nunu. Scars are cool.

    Liked by 1 person

    • wendyblack1 May 13, 2015 / 11:59 pm

      That’s a bad ass scar, and may I just say, I love how your words for your hamburglars and your panty pillow. Because I do. I seriously do.

      Like

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