Scars are good like that.
I have a few.
See what I did there?
Of course there are the stretch marks and the big fat c-section scar that remind me that my body was strong and healthy enough to bring children into the world.
There's the big quarter-sized scar on the inside of my thigh from that time I had a showdown with an angry dog ... and lost. That nasty little beast took a big juicy chunk right out of my leg. Not my favorite way to lose fat.
There is the lovely scar that starts behind my hair line and runs down the middle of my forehead, along with the various large and small scars along my left arm and shoulder from the time in my 20's when my little Hyundai was struck by a guy running a stop sign. Rumor has it I got to ride on a helicopter, but I don't remember any of that.
I have a few freckles and moles from too many sunburns.
I have a toenail that will never NOT be ugly because of some weird tumor that tried to grow underneath it back in the 8th grade.
I could go on forever, baby, but let's just say that I'm oddly appreciative of and intrigued by my scars.
Some of mine remind me that I did something stupid and never want to repeat it if I don't have to (read: taking on a ferocious watch dog). Some remind me that I got pretty banged up through no fault of my own, but came out alive on the other side. Some remind me that sometimes the body just gets sick and needs the healing abilities of someone smarter and better equipped to fix the problem than myself.
Physical scars are proof that the body has an incredible capacity to heal its wounds and get on with life.
Emotional scars are like that, too. We get beat up, do dumb things, or just get sick sometimes, but whatever doesn't kill us makes us tougher and hopefully wiser.
photo credit: http://fanpop.com
No comments:
Post a Comment