Today I wore an outfit that showed my fold from my stitches for the first time.
This ‘fold’ came from my emergency operation. It was the most serious of all my operations. I had just had an operation to put a metal valve in my brain and after surgery, they discovered something had gone wrong. They had punctured my intestines, the contents of which were now leaking into my abdomen and corroding my other organs. The incision was done in a rush and because they had to completely clear out my abdomen it was deeper than any other scar. It saved my life but all I could think was how this scar now made me look like I had a roll of fat. I was 11 years old.At 11 years old, you should be worrying about petty friendship drama or how that boy ignored you in the playground.
3 months later, I was finally able to leave hospital. I was the smallest I had ever been, having lost 2 stone in hospital and my mum had just bought me so new clothes that I could fit into. I slipped on this beautiful white top and instead, all I could focus on was this roll that had been created. I looked in the mirror and realised that this mistake that the doctors had made, had cost me the price of being beautiful. That it was no longer an option for me and I resigned to accepting that.
How wrong I was. This crease made me fight to find something else that was beautiful, it made me fight to find my beauty somewhere else. I finally did and could rest assured that I could keep this part of me hidden for the rest of my life.
Yet that wasn’t good enough. I shouldn’t have to look for beauty elsewhere. My beauty was lying right in front of me. My beauty included my scars.
I bought this dress a year ago and when I was looking at my cupboard this morning, I told myself I needed to either wear it or give it away. I asked myself why I hadn’t, and this fold just didn’t seem a good enough reason. That is growth, that is body confidence. Whether it’s your VBO on show, or your stitches #wewearwhatwewant !! #scarrednotscared#nofilter