When I was in middle school, I was in an accident that left me with a prominent scar that went down my forehead, the side of my face, and down my neck. My scar was the elephant in the room, the bull in the china shop. I covered it with my hair, and wore scarves and turtlenecks, but everyone knew about it, and nobody spoke of it. Ever. I was ostracized and became an outcast, a freak. One night, there was a school dance. I stuck to the walls and shadows, not wanting to be there. A girl in a red dotted dress approached me and asked me about the scar. I was dumbfounded. She asked me to move my hair so she could see it. With my heart pounding, I shook my head, told her it was horribly disturbing and ugly. But she persisted, so I reluctantly swept my hair away and pulled down the collar of my turtleneck, waiting for her to recoil in disgust. “It’s not bad. Not bad at all,” she said, and it shocked me. I did not believe her. She skipped off to the dance floor, and I went to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror, wondering if I had deluded myself into thinking the scar was worse than it was. I rarely allowed myself to look at it, but I imagined it to be a vile, gruesome marking on my face and neck. But I looked at it for the first time in many months, and all I saw was a thin, jaggedy white line. “Not bad. Not bad at all.“ I found the girl in the red dotted dress and danced with her. She twirled and bounced from toe to toe, with her hair swaying in all directions, and I felt an emotion for which I have no words to describe. And even when her group of friends came and grabbed her arm, trying to drag her away from me, she kept dancing. She spun around, took a step back, and dodged her friends reaching hands and danced with me until I was dizzy and giddy with happiness. I may not remember her name or the color of her eyes, but she was not a bad person. Not bad at all.
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We often see faults in ourselves that others don’t see and you should never be ashamed of your scar or what you think you look like.
It might be a defining moment in your life to think that your scar gives you prestige over those without any identifying features, such as yours and in reality, its really no big deal, if you think of it like that and don’t let it intrude on your life or your life’s potential, anymore.
We all have things about ourselves which we don’t like – I was born with a pot belly and dare I say it, I waddle like a duck, but it has never stopped me getting the prettiest of girls and the life I always wanted for myself, because if those I came into contact with, never saw my pot belly, then neither did I.
I had a photo taken of me with my latest date, years ago and I really did not like my pot belly and now I refuse to have my photo taken, when I can avoid it, because of that, but my stance had no effect on the women who I was with, because my sense of humour carried me through and made me desirable company.
I’mma go cry of appreciation for the both of you x