Scars are Beautiful

A few months ago, Unapologetically Angie wrote a beautiful post concerning her scars. It’s inspired me to write my own and share my story (you can read her blog post here). 
I’ve never known my body without my scars, as I had them as a baby. At 9 months-old I caught the chicken pocks, which was not surprising living with older siblings and cousins who had them as well. However, it quickly developed into a staph infection (staphylococcus), which is a bacteria that often and easily enters open wounds. I, of course, do not remember any of this happening to me, so the few details I know are based on what I’ve been told.

I know my family was concerned as I was clearly showing signs of ill-health, but local professionals did not seem that bothered. I eventually ended up in the hospital, and even there I was only seen by interns who did not seem to think I had anything serious, despite my constant screams because of the pain. When my health worsened to a state of emergency, I was finally seen by a doctor. Long story short, I was left with a body covered in scars (mainly focused around my neck, chest and belly). My mother took great care of them; she would always make sure I had sun cream on whilst in the sun or that I was wearing a t-shirt so that they wouldn’t be exposed for too long. 

I don’t remember my scars bothering me as a child, but I started being more and more ashamed when I entered secondary school. I initially never thought they were ugly or disturbing, but other people made me feel that way. Children and teenagers don’t seem to have filters and can make the nastiest comments without caring about your feelings. I was asked almost on a daily basis why I have these scars; I don’t mind explaining where they come from, but there’s a way of asking things. I’d often get a disgusted face staring at my neck wondering what could’ve possibly happened for me to carry around such marks. And honestly, that’s some of the nicest reactions. A common one was to come to me, touch my scars without even asking, then acting repulsed and asking why I had that. I genuinely don’t understand how some people can believe that is an appropriate reaction. 

The endless touches and comments made me feel ashamed and I wanted to hide my scars; I’d often wear a scarf to school to prevent them from being noticed. I started accepting them around the age of fifteen, when I got my first serious boyfriend. Having someone love me and my body truly boosted my confidence and made me feel like they didn’t matter, because he didn’t care about them. I don’t recall them really bothering me ever since; on the contrary I am proud to have them. I find it amusing now to see people trying to take a glance thinking I don’t notice them, and often being too shy/uncomfortable to ask me what happened. As previously mentioned, it’s not an incident I remember so talking about it is in no way traumatic, and I really don’t mind constantly repeating the same story. I appreciate the discretion, though. 

Scars are there to tell a story. Your story. They make you unique and, as my aunt beautifully said to me once, they mean you’ve survived whatever came your way, and you should never be ashamed of them. They are proof that you are a fighter and a survivor. In other words, you’re awesome! Don’t forget that. 

Love love love



8 thoughts on “Scars are Beautiful

  1. I find it odd that so many people asked you why you have the scars. Kinda rude?! Nevertheless, this post is totally inspiring. Well done for sharing such a personal story, some people don't realise how scary it can be blogging about these topics. jenny x


  2. Eleonore, just before Christmas I tweeted about my scars, people kept on saying I couldn’t be trusted because I had pictures of cars or planes as my profile picture, which I still do, that I was trying to cover up or hide who I am, well the answer is I hate myself and I hate the scars that I carry, I can look at others with scars and I can find them beautiful but I don’t want to romanticise about my scars they were from a time in my life when I consider myself to be an arsehole, I do accept them and they are a constant reminder not to go back to those times, but yes in others I see great beauty in scars and people should not be ashamed of them or be made to feel bad about them by others, I love this blog Eleonore and I love that you’re here, that you did survive and that you fought that battle without help for so long, I love that you are now totally comfortable with your story and that you have told it, this was in no way meant to be a negative reply to you it’s just how I feel about me and others thank you so so much for writing this love Clive xx


    • Thank you!!
      I’m sorry to hear that, despite them having a bad connotation for you I hope you’ll grow to accept them and yourself more! And I agree that it can be damaging to romanticise them, but yeah they’re here to stay, so might as well try our best to live with them. x

      Liked by 1 person

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