Scar

Scar - Missy Higgins


If you've read my previous post "No, Not World Peace", you may have noticed a bunch of people who commented to me to join a beauty pageant or something (Hi Miggs and Charlie! Haha!). Well guys, sorry to burst your little bubble but no, I can't. No, it's not because I'm too shy to join (Me? Shy? Is that word even in my vocabulary! Haha!). No, it's not because I don't meet minimum height requirements (Come on! The girl who towers over all of her colleagues...in flats!). Nope. It's something that probably won't sit well with Stella Marquez and the Binibining Pilipinas foundation nor the Miss Australia organisation.
What is it? Well, this:

I have a scar on my left leg. It's pretty big with its 3-4 inch diameter. I got it in Year 6 whilst crossing the street to buy something at the store. Some fast motorcycle driver didn't see me so...well, there! The colour has blended in a little to my complexion due to application of tons of cocoa butter and lanolin. But yeah, it's still undeniably there.


And you know what? I don't mind! I don't mind that there's a faint scarlet spot on my leg. I don't mind the little imperfection that flashes itself whenever I walk. I don't mind that my left leg is not anymore pristine. I don't mind that I can never fully fulfill any (super slight) Marilyn Monroe fantasies (Marilyn Monroe and I should never be in the same sentence!). I don't mind so much that I dare outfit myself in knee-length skirts

Yes, that's right. I dare not cover up my scar. I dare showing to the world that little blemish of rose. I dare not hiding the fact that my legs aren't perfect at all. Yes, despite Miss Universe telling me to do otherwise. Yes, despite magazines saying I should just wear pants. Even yes, despite my Mum itching to get my scar lasered off.

What was that? You're calling me brave, even crazy, for showing my blemished, not-so pristine, imperfect leg? Maybe I am.

Wait a second? Aren't all legs imperfect to begin with? If you think about it, no one really has perfect legs. In some way, all legs --- from Jill Whoever's to Miss Australia's --- are blemished. Whether a little mosquito bite or a little patch of hair or tiny little spider veins, we all have imperfect legs. And that's okay because it shows a facet of our humanity --- imperfection. Yeah, it reminds me of the time I crossed the road so la-di-dah but at least now I know to always look out for cars and motorbikes. And it's a lesson I really know by heart.

The same goes for life, really. We have been conditioned to not make mistakes. And when we do, we should hide them. It's not really pretty, they say. You should just bury them in a puddle of denial.

But guess what? I can't really live that way (Yes, Unwritten by Natasha Beddingfield!). Nobody can. It's just human to err. And there's nothing to be ashamed of in that. It is usually through mistakes that we learn and become the remarkable people that we are called to be.

So go on! Wear that Blair Waldorf skirt! You know you want to!