The Scars Will Remind You

Social media, as much as I love to hate it, is a huge part of my life. I think everyone knows that all parts of college Greek life use social media to brand the sisterhood/brotherhood. So I’m no stranger to being an active social media user. Yesterday was a big step for me, it was the first time I was comfortable enough to share a picture with a straight shot of my scar.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve posted picture of my in a bathing suit before, but my scar is never prominent. I make sure of that. I guess after years of me trying to convince others that scars are what make them beautiful I’m starting to take my own advice.

I hate my scar, but I love it more. (I know that makes absolutely no sense so let me explain). I hate it because: it’s an ugly reminder, people stare, and I barely have a bellybutton because some stupid resident wanted to test a new glue substance instead of stitches on an 18-year-old girl who obviously didn’t have enough to worry about already. The list goes on and on. I love it because it’s me. As a super cliché lyric from Papa Roach says, “scars remind us that the past is real,” it’s true. They’re a constant reminder that I survived multiple surgeries, years of being sick, and so much more. I survived.

To be honest, I don’t know what has changed. Maybe it’s the 5 years of dealing with it. Maybe it’s because I have someone that constantly reminds me how beautiful I am and means it. Maybe it’s because I have a best friend (pictured below) that has been with me through surgery and procedures and pushes me to love myself and everything about me. What I do know is that it’s about time I learned to take my own advice, it feels damn good.


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