Our world is all about vanity. It’s sad but true. The part that makes me the most upset looking back is remembering myself crying after my second surgery… Not because I had STAGE 3 cancer and my entire life was changing but because I thought my scar was so ugly. I would look in the mirror and cry, I would glance down in the shower and cry, I would see my scar showing past the hem of my shorts and cry. I remember telling my aunt Jen how ugly I felt and that I would never wear a bathing suit ever again in my life. Isn’t that sad? To think that this world has taught us that anything but a skinny tanned in shape body is ugly? Looking back now I just think to myself how much heartache about my scar I put myself through for no reason. I’ve acquired a lot more since then. My count up is 3 in my pubic area, the one on my leg, some under each arm and across each hip, one on my abdomen and one under my right eye. Every single one is beautiful and every single one I love. It may sound so cliche but when words can’t tell my story, my scars can. Am I still self conscious at times? Of course. Who isn’t in this world? But the way I see it is like this… Remember that pair of tennis shoes you begged for in elementary school? Your favorite pair that you wore everyday. The ones your mom yelled at you for because she spent money on something you let your bestfriend sign with a gel pen. The one with grass stains from playing your favorite sport at recess and the brown stain across the front from drinking your favorite chocolate milk at lunch. The same pair your old family dog chewed up a little in the backyard after you took them off from climbing your favorite tree. Yes, that same old raggedy pair of shoes you insisted on wearing with the nice dress your mom bought you for special occasions. That pair. That pair that was so hard to get rid of because of all the memories they held inside their worn out laces. The ones you kept even when your toes were squished at the front and they didn’t fit. Your body is that pair of shoes. Don’t ever be ashamed of the one and only thing physically carrying you through this life and don’t ever be worried about someone else loving your body because as long as you do does it even really matter? Nope, just like your mom hated those old sneakers.