My skin is delicate and I did not take the time to care for it, for a very long time. I have many scars. Some are silly (shoebites from heels I wouldn't wear now), some mean more (a six and half inch scar below my navel from when my daughter was born, an accident from a few years ago). Some scars i carry with me, not knowing how they were made.
It took me years to understand that my body is not meant to be perfect. It took me years to realise that the scars are how my body tells the story of my life. It is how I carry the memories with me. It is how I know my body is more than a physical thing.
When she was born, I did not get to hold her before life could touch her body and change it. Her vaccination immediately after birth had already left a wound on her arm, which would turn into a scar. It took me time to realise that she is not meant to be perfect, either. She looks at the scar tissue on my arm, and sees a moon in it.
I want to tell her that nothing I will ever give to her will come close to being as precious as the body she has.
It took me years to understand that my body is not meant to be perfect. It took me years to realise that the scars are how my body tells the story of my life. It is how I carry the memories with me. It is how I know my body is more than a physical thing.
When she was born, I did not get to hold her before life could touch her body and change it. Her vaccination immediately after birth had already left a wound on her arm, which would turn into a scar. It took me time to realise that she is not meant to be perfect, either. She looks at the scar tissue on my arm, and sees a moon in it.
I want to tell her that nothing I will ever give to her will come close to being as precious as the body she has.
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