#CH2Ttruths I’m scarred, but who isn’t?
This scar on my arm came after a biopsy I had to have done not once, but twice to remove a painful cyst (thankfully noncancerous). For years I let it bother me. I kept it hidden under long sleeves even in the dead of summer, all because I was embarrassed for people to notice it.
I convinced myself I hated my arms, and I’d snap at my hubs anytime he’d dare to ask if I was “hot under all those layers?” (Hmm come to think of it, maybe he was getting at something else 😉) I’ve spent too many moments lamenting my old arms - the scarless ones. The dancer arms that once had definition, but now reminded me more of pizza dough hanging from a rack 😳
But why? Like really, why? All because they look a little different 🤷♀️ So I finally asked myself - whose standard was I trying to live up to? Did I really think people would take one look at my flabby, war wounded arms and decide they couldn’t be friends with me?
Sadly, yes. For some reason I legit thought my scar alone would be enough to erase any of my other seemingly good qualities & I’d be judged forever. Thrown into a bucket of less than worthy people with matching scars to show.
Why y’all, why? Why do we let ourselves believe these things about something so insignificant? I think it’s cuz we’re scared to accept ourselves and all our flaws, because the minute we do we’d have nothing more to complain about.
But I’m done. I’m done feeling the need to complain about my weight, my skin, my hair, and yes even my silly scar. Because I’m here, and healthy, and happy, and no scar cuts deep enough to take that away.
#RRProject30 #Herbodycan #CammeoH2T