Scars are something most of us have, and many of us regard as imperfections. I think of scars and milestones, memories, or battle wounds. I would never choose to use a scar-fading cream or get an expensive procedure done to remove and of my scars, because I think they are special. And while I didn’t get my scars from an ancient African tribe ritual or from a car accident where I was miraculously spared, my scars still mean something to me, no matter how silly the stories are to others. Plus, they make me look really tough and are great conversation starters!
The first scar I ever received and one of the most noticeable is the one below my lip. It is a very small, raised, white scar that I got when I just turned four years old. My parents and brother were going to an FRA open house, and I was staying with my great aunt and uncle. I didn’t want to leave with my mom when she came to get me, and I climbed up on a chair next to the counter in the kitchen. Then the counter turned into a death trap, and I hit my poor cute baby face on the sharp counter. We met my pediatrician (who was at a bar mitzvah) at a parking garage and decided I needed stitches, so he called Vanderbilt. Being the stubborn person that I am, I downright refused to get stitches (lots of tears.) Instead, they glued it up with “Barney glue” which was just purple glue stuff that wasn’t too fun either. But at least I got to watch cartoons, which was fun.
The second very noticeable scar fits like a puzzle piece above my first. It is completely unrelated to my very first scar, but it looks like they could have been gotten at the very same time. I got this scar on New Year’s Eve in 2006 (or was it technically 2007?) I was playing Wii with Ellen Crouch, when it was her turn to “bowl” I went to cuddle with my cat, Cutie. When I went in for a harmless kiss, I was met with a bite. It didn’t really hurt, but it was one of those I’m-so-shocked-I-have-to-cry situations. I ran into the nearest bathroom and looked at my face, and a trickle of blood was making its way to my mouth. Next, I ran downstairs to the small party my parents were having, and I told them in between tears what happened. Since Cutie is an outdoor cat who eats who knows what, we were worried what kinds of germs could be in her mouth and decided to go the emergency room. We got there, and all they did was clean it up a little with alcohol. My mom bought me Mederma for it, which has never been used.
Other scars of mine include one on my toe, my stomach, my thigh, and two on my arm. I cut my toe on the door of a boat, which bled more than you’d think. As one of those kids who has never broken a bone or had a serious injury, I was obsessed with this little cut on my toe. When I got home, I wanted to doctor it up with an Ace bandage, which served no actual purpose. The scar on my stomach is pretty pathetic and possibly inappropriate and incredibly similar to the one on my thigh. I was taking my shirt (in my thigh’s case, it was my pants) and my fingernail just completely sliced my skin. It looks like I had some sort of plastic surgery. Which I haven’t. The scar on my upper arm came from a middle school P.E. locker, which was stupidly designed to be opened from the bottom and lifted up. I opened it, and dropped it right on my arm, and I still have a faint dark mark in a funky shape. One of the “scarier” sounding scars came from an innocent-seeming endeavor. I was outside, at my old house, like always, when my friend came over and asked me to go see this dog with her. It was just down the street, and in my old neighborhood, you could go anywhere with any other kid and have fun. I went to this house, and that’s when the dog attacked me. I honestly don’t remember (because it was so long ago) if it was a true attack, or just a bite. I do remember falling down and being completely terrified, but as a young girl, anything could have frightened me. The scar near my wrist is a little white circle.
Scars for some people are scary or ugly, but to me, they are actually cool. Don’t get me wrong- I don’t ask for them, but I love telling stories about them and asking others about theirs. Next topic- near death experiences? 😉
This isn't a picture of my scar, but it is kind of similar in severity to mine...not too bad.
An example of "ritual scars" in an African tribe.