There’s No Shame In Our Scars

I was born in the 80s. 85 to be exact, a time when playing outside was a thing and video games were on the rise. When curfews meant being home by the time the street lights came on and $1 went a long way at the candy lady’s window. I spent the late 80s and early 90s playing hard and learning lessons. When I take a look at my legs I can follow journey through the remnants they’ve left behind. In my early twenties I spent too much time shaming myself and my tomboy ways. Wishing I had been a girl inclined to sitting pretty instead of skating down the stairs. As I settle into my thirties, I recognize more and more, there’s no shame in our scars.

I think often of the joys of childhood. I’m one of those people who reminisces of days gone by, wondering to myself if I could do anything different – what would I do? I wonder if I would have hopped over the fence to chase a girl who threatened to toss my shoe into a pool, resulting in a gaping gash underneath my eye? Would I have tried to shave my legs, against my mother’s direction, thus regaining the chunk of my shin I lost in my disobedience? Maybe. Or maybe I would just make different mistakes that showed up in different ways.

I’ve felt shame in my scars in the past…

Thinking that my ladylikeness was stripped away with every darkened brown spot on my calves. Proving that I’m not the gentle, loving, nurturing creature that women are supposed to be. Instead I’m bruised, like a piece of fruit worthy of only being carved up a made into something more beautiful, like cake or pie. But then I thought, what’s wrong with cake or pie? Sweet on the tongue, mixed with other ingredients, whose scent permeates the spaces they live in. Desirable and served for special occasions. Greeted with smiles and joy. Yes, I am cake. I am pie. I’m sweet, I’m an amalgamation of many things created into something beautiful. Scars and all I am a definition of femininity. I am worthy of pretty dresses and sexy skirts that showcase the proof of my childhood well lived.

outfit details: sweatshirt – Aritzia // sneakers – Nike // sunnies – Le Specs // biker shorts – ASOS // belt bag – Aimee Kestenberg

I’ve decided not to be ashamed anymore. I’m not going to be afraid to wear shorts for fear that my legs aren’t pretty enough. I won’t opt out of short skirts because I think that they’ll distract from the beauty I possess. But this goes beyond the scars that I can see. It’s much deeper than the scabs of yesterday, I’m also learning that the scars unseen are not anything to hide either. The pain that I have gone through only serves as a reminder that I made it. I survived. So have you. The thing you knew for sure would take you out, didn’t. You’re still here as proof that you are strong and unbowed. Don’t be embarrassed by your past, instead allow the blows you withstood to continue to encourage you. I promise you, I’m doing the same.

be well,

 

 

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Author: The Hautemommie

A mother. A wife. An entrepreneur. And I aim to look good while I do it.

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