THE FAULT IN OUR SCARS|| flaunt your flaws 

Everyone has them, even the queen (shocker!). Whether it be from an unfortunate encounter with a lamp post, a marking of birth (birth mark, they’re called birth marks…), or the outcome of a traumatic period of your life, they’re there. A four letter word- scar– a word that spend less than a second on the lips, but a lifetime on the hips (*comes to the realisation I have just re-spoke the script of a dieting advert*)…no no, sorry, lets re-iterate: a word that takes 50 milliseconds to say, but a lifetime to go away. A scar:

1. A mark left on the skin or within body tissue where a wound, burn, or sore has not healed completely.
“a faint scar ran the length of his left cheek”
Or as Connor Franta (*promo warning*-he’s an O-U-T-R-A-G-E-O-U-S-L-Y A-M-A-Z-I-N-G- youtuber, check him out here) defines it:
“Scars are daily reminders of something that happened to us- usually something significant. We should appreciate their presence, or at least acknowledge them and see them in a different way. It’s a unique marking and part of my identity.”
It is a unique marking and part of my identity“. Oh the undying inspiration. But it’s a fact; no one else has that scar, that birth mark, or that ‘flaw‘ exactly were you do. Its UNIQUE, ONE OF A KIND, is makes you YOU. It’s like a limited edition bottle of Coca Cola Life in Tesco that they will only ever be one of- and you have it.
I have 8 scars, situated in all locations of my body. A birth mark, 2 scars on my arms- one on each in exactly the same place, a little weird funkay thing on my forehead, 3 in a row on my leg (sounds like the game- cool.) and a delightful little pentagonal one on my knee cap. But they don’t bother me. Why? Because they are so insignificant when placed in context. Why waist my life away worrying about a mangled, dis-orientated Happy Potter enthusiast scar on my head when I could be worrying about how much Nutella is left in the jar, and whether or not there will be any left by Sunday…

To all the many millions of readers I currently do not have (*preys to self*), I thank you for taking the time to thoroughly depress yourself by reading my hopeless attempt at a seriously serious topic. I realise the reality is something along the lines of: (1) see nutella jar, (2) skip to end hoping for Nutella giveaway competition, (3) realise its a below bog standard blog, (4) quietly leave.

But if you are here, or somewhere, or something, I thank you anyway.

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