Let’s talk about scars for a second, shall we?
I am pretty sure that every mark on our bodies has a story behind it, even if we don’t know the story. And I could probably go into the emotional scars we all carry, the marks on our soul, but today something tells me that would be just too precious and I will spare you the drama. I have lots of scars, inside and out, because I’m a clumsy girl both physically and emotionally, and I get bumped a lot, and many of my bumps leave marks. I know people, like my sister Sammi, who mark more easily than I do. For Sammi it seems like every time she has even a tiny impact with the world around her, it leaves a mark that she’ll carry forever. My skin’s a tad thicker, but not by much.
I have this scar on my right forearm, this little shiny white spot that is in size and shape just a bit bigger than a grain of rice. That scar is Dawn’s fault.
Dawn moved to Windsor from somewhere else when we were in middle school. 90210 was new and very big at the time, and Dawn looked just like Kelly Taylor. She was really pretty and just bitchy enough to skyrocket herself into instant popularity. I figured I was smarter than she was, but she was just so pretty and so well-dressed. I hated her guts, I wanted to beat her at everything, and I wanted her to like me.
I don’t know that I’d say we were ever friends. It was a long time ago, but right now I remember almost nothing about her. I don’t know if we played volleyball together or if she was in band. I don’t think she ever came to my house after school, and I know I never went to hers. I do know that she sang soprano in choir with me in seventh grade, because I remember that she sat immediately to my right in class.
For some reason, one day Dawn and I found ourselves in a pinchfight during choir. This was not a popular activity at my school or anything, and I honestly don’t remember why it started. I just remember that we kept pinching each other, progressively harder, and we had so far done it without attracting any attention from the teacher. There was definitely an element of cruelty in the whole thing, as demonstrated when Dawn decided she was bored with the pinchfight and proceeded to pinch me as hard as she could, until I was bleeding rather profusely and trying not to make any noise. I was not about to risk my spot as choir director’s pet, or worse, make myself the target of open mocking from Dawn and her cool friends, so I kept my mouth shut and excused myself to the bathroom to clean up my arm.
It took forever to heal and left a scar that is still there today. If not for the pinch, Dawn is probably someone I would have forgotten soon after moving away from Colorado, but instead, I have this physical connection to her. It’s a reminder, I guess, of how perilous it can be to mess with the mean girls. Every time I notice that scar I think of Dawn.
So, what’s one of your scars with a good story?