I nearly gave up. Tara Cain was all "you're amazing! You're inspiring! Now I'm going to watch your brain cells leak slowly out of your ears while you all walk around clueless, saying WTF! WTF! Mwah hah hah."
I mean, I love her and all, I met her and some very lovely others for the first time today, but I very nearly considered myself supremely butt-fucked by this week's Gallery theme.
Sooooo...I decided on this.
No no, I'm not suggesting me (though some days I seriously would), but look closer. At my neck.
I have a scar on my neck, which has been there since I was almost a year old. I got it because whilst a childminder was looking after me, she left a tea pot of boiling hot water on a coffee table. I walked over to the table and decided to investigate. The rest is history. I have the scars all around my neck, behind my right ear and down my right arm. They will be there, I suspect, forever.
Most scars I can deal with. My legs are badly scarred from eczema. My bum and thighs are riddled with teenage stretch marks. It's not great, but I find ways to deal with it.
But I know for a fact there are no photos of me as a baby around the age of 1, because my face was so badly scarred for a short while I was unrecognisable. I was a very ugly baby. My poor mum couldn't bare to have the reminder of what I looked like, and even though I never saw it, I don't blame her.
So I consider this scar, of all my battle wounds, to be pretty ugly. I hate it, and even though most people don't notice it, I will be eternally aware of it. It's pretty ugly to me.