I Wear My Map

Do a loony-goony dance...


I lost another bandage covering one the four incisions from my hysterectomy last week.  The two smallest wounds appear to be almost healed.  I know the next one will be the one to left of my naval.  The one in my belly button is the goriest, and the biggest scar, which makes me kind of sad because I want to wear it more prominently on what has quickly become an epidermal battlefield of war wounds varying from health issues to stupid mistakes.

Some people hate their scars.  They try to disguise them with clothing, cover them with makeup, or strategically maneuver their hair to cover them.  I, on the other hand, have been in love with scars for most of my life.  They were like a lone book sitting on an otherwise clean, empty shelf.  They stood out and drew you in, wondering why that sole book was so special?  The…

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