Scarred and Proud
Learning to Accept the Scar on My Body

Photo Illustration by Sage Nenyue l VOX Stafff

By Morgan Gardner
VOX Staff

I don’t remember irritating the spot on my chest that much, but the big, circular scar came from the chicken pox and my abundance of scratching. After a week of oatmeal baths and rest in bed, I went back to kindergarten with a barely-visible blemish on my chest. Plenty of my classmates had scars too, so mine was just one among many. That Halloween, I even dressed up as a Hawaiian princess with a raffia skirt and a colorful halter-top, not scared to expose my scar. Those were good times for me and my self-confidence.

But as I grew older and my scar became more prominent, it took a lot of time and self-talks for me to accept it and ultimately, myself. I was scared that people wouldn’t like me because they would only see my scar when they looked at me.

My Growing Scar
Throughout the years, the scar began to grow with my body, and so did my self-consciousness. Throughout elementary school I wore uniforms — pleated skirts with crisp, button-up shirts — that covered my scar every day. But when sixth grade came, I transferred to a public school, where all of us got to wear our own clothes, and that’s when shopping for clothes became difficult. Other girls didn’t have ugly scars on their chests to cover up, so they came to school adorned in Limited Too and Old Navy scoop necks and v-neck T-shirts. Wearing turtlenecks daily just wasn’t an option for me, and neither were my old school uniforms. I was embarrassed to have the deformity on my chest and refused to let others see it. Even during the summer, in the pool, I would keep my chest underwater, and when I got out, I sprinted to the nearest towel to cover myself.

It seemed as if every store I went into had only two or three shirts in stock that would cover my scar. I often took my frustrations out on my mom by giving her attitude and yelling, not realizing at the time that she was only trying to help me. I covered my chest with my clothes to keep the “What happened?” or “What is that?” questions away, but when I covered my scar, it itched because of the fabric on my skin.

Many middle-school girls go through self-esteem issues and awkwardness during puberty, but having a huge scar on my body made my condition worse. No one ever really made rude comments about the scar, but I felt that because I had something weird on my body, other people would look at me differently and talk about me.

Sharing My Scar
It wasn’t until sophomore year that I had an epiphany. I read a story in the news about a boy my age born with six fingers on one hand. He had surgery twice to remove the extra limb, but the finger merely grew back. After reading that story, I realized there are plenty of others with worse conditions than mine, but they don’t let their physical differences hold them back.

I don’t remember when I started wearing shirts to expose my scar again, but I remember it felt good to wear what I wanted and not worry about covering myself. The scenarios I had made up in my head about people gasping and looking at me in disgust never played out. I had been acting like I had some sort of severe defect in my physical appearance, when it really was just a scar on my chest. So I decided to get over it.

Learning to Love Myself
I’m no longer uncomfortable wearing clothes or swimsuits that expose my scar because I realize that the scar isn’t a big deal, and no one else seems to think so either. I still get the occasional questions, but it’s usually out of curiosity, not disgust. I’ve even had people tell me they think the scar is cool.

As my self-esteem has grown, so has my acceptance of my scar. As I grew up, I became active in school and extracurricular activities, which gave me a sense of self-worth and made me more personable. When I hit the end of puberty, I was able to look in the mirror and accept my physical self.

I don’t see my scar as a deformity anymore. Rather, it’s another beautiful part of me that has ultimately led me to accept myself as a whole.

Morgan is a senior at Alpharetta High. She loves herself, her family, friends and her scar.