#LoveMe Challenge | Day 8

Hello, lovelies!

Welcome to Day #8! We've made it past the hump of blogging for a week straight, and here we are on week number two. Hopefully you've been having as much fun reading these as I have with writing them. (:

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Share A Scar


This scar came on a snowy winter day.

I was in 8th grade, so this was about four years ago, and we were given the afternoon to go sledding. My school had a really amazing sledding hill at the back, and we even had an entire little building dedicated to housing sledding equipment (we dubbed it the "Sled Shed").

I was wearing a fuzzy white coat that made me feel like a polar bear, and I was ready for a day of sledding goodness. The guys, of course, had already made ramps and had headed out towards the most "dangerous" areas of the hill (dangerous = small patches of wimpy ice). We girls, however, had headed out to the opposite side of the hill, because we were not interested in trying to flip each other on the way down.

A friend of mine had just hopped in my sled with me, and we were about to push off down the hill. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see two of my guy friends making their way towards us and push off around the same time we did. It was fun for about five seconds, and I was smiling as the cold whipped around us.

And then we made it to the bottom.

I tumbled out of the sled, laughing, when I saw the guys' sled coming at me at an alarming rate. I didn't have time to move before I was run over by the weight of a derpy plastic sled and two middle school boys. As they passed, I sat up, dazed. My friend was staring at me in horror, but I couldn't figure out why. My face was completely numb aside from a trickle coming out of my nose, and I felt like I was in a daze as my friend gestured towards my coat. I lazily looked down, and saw the front of my coat was dripping in blood, and my first thought was, "That is never gonna wash out."

And then my lower lip began to throb, and reaching up to touch it only resulted in blood on my hands. My friend helped me stand, and I tried to smile at the concerned people around me, tried to let them know I was fine. Turns out, my teeth had bit into my lower lip on impact, and I was offering people a horrifyingly bloody smile since they were coated in red. (Awkward.)

The scar part of this story is my lip. If you looked at me, you wouldn't see it, because the scar is just a raised little bit of skin on the inside of my lower lip. I can feel it if I run my tongue along it, but it's so low-key that I'm really the only one who notices it on a regular basis. Regardless of how big the scar is, it comes with a story, and it's one that I won't forget for a long time.

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I debated heavily over doing an emotional scar vs. a physical scar, but I think physical scars have much more exciting stories behind them. That being said, a scar is a scar, and if you can learn to love yourself regardless of that, then you're on the right track. (:

That is all.

Cheers,

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