My friend Melanie showed us (albeit online) her nasty toe injury where part of her nail was ripped off... How pleasant.
That got me thinking: I have all kinds of scars on my body (and an obscure one on my chin) and I have no idea where they came from. Seriously. These are what I call my mystery life scars. They are kinda like emotional scars, in that you know they're there, but you have a hard time tracing back when and how they got there. On whom you should blame. Or if they will ever completely go away.
Most of us came to this world in almost perfect form -- apart from a birthmark or two, we were almost perfect. Perfect skin. Perfect head. Perfectly tiny feet. And perfect bottom. But as the years go on, we acquire more and more scars and blemishes. Acne scars for our youth. Spots and freckles for our age. And scars of our hearts for our devotions. These scars, in truth, are the reminders that we are indeed human, that we have histories, that they are all unique and that we are not just some tiny human replicas.
That's why sometimes I look in the mirror and see that scar on my chin, and I smile and say, "You're one sexy scar." Because it's all mine.
800 words, 18000 words total
323 days and 167500 words to go