Friday, February 24, 2006
I was washing my face the other night, getting ready for bed when I noticed my scar. I have this scar on the right, my right, side of my upper lip, about a quarter of an inch from the corner. It goes up about a quarter inch towards my eye. I hadn’t thought about this scar in years. I’ve had it since I was a baby. Just one of the scars, literally, of being the youngest child. When I was about two my older brother and sister were "chasing" me around my parents old, sharp cornered coffee table. My lip came in contact with one of the corners. It’s the only time in my life I’ve ever gotten stitches. And even though I don’t remember any of this, I’ve always hated that coffee table and cheered the day my parents finally gave it away and got a new table, an oval.
I hated the scar growing up. What girl wants a scar? Only boys think scars look cool and tough, adolescent girls just count them as one more thing to make them ugly. And anyone who knows me is probably saying, "She has a 1/4 inch scar above her lip? Never noticed." Or maybe it’s super obvious to you and your like, "Duh, how could you forget about that thing. It’s part of who she is." So when I looked in the mirror the other night, I was sort of taken aback. It had been so long since I’d thought about the scar, it was like I’d forgotten I had it. I was looking at it with all new eyes. And all of a sudden I thought, "I’m like Tina Fey." And she’s funny and beautiful, (plus, at least she used to get to sit next to Jimmy Fallon... and he’s hilarious). It was an odd epiphany, discovering something about myself that I’d forgotten, and having a completely different view in regards to it.