"I like scars. They are our stories recorded on our bodies," said a college roommate one morning when I was horrified by her excitement over a cigarette burn scar. I still think she's crazy for being drunk enough not to realize she was being burned by a cigarette. And to think it was cool when she got home the next morning. But, she had a point -- scars are life stories recorded on your body.
There's the chicken pox scar from the end of kindergarten. Which I hated because I had to miss water day at school. I really wanted to play on the slip n' slides.
The bump on my lip from when I learned the hard way never to run with you hands in your pockets.
On my left elbow is the scar from when I decided to be a hot shot on my bike. I forgot that you have pull the handlebars up before you try to jump a curb.
A scar on my knee taught me houw much you use your knees. And just how much a klutz I am. Because I kept cutting the wound open again.
There's a scar on my knuckle because I was coordinate enough to cut myself int eh same spot each and every time I put laundry in the trunk to take home my freshman year of college.
I have scars criss-crossing older scars; scars that have faded; scars that can't be seen by the naked eye; and scars that will come. However, each one is unique unto only me....and each one comes with its own story. Yeah, I guess you could say I like my scars. Got any scar stories to share?