I have been blogging so often recently that taking a week off feels like a year! But I am back (hello) with another rebooted blog! You can blame my AudioBlog for me re-hashing old ideas, I think I will do it more because some ideas that I have already executed are just so much better now I am more accomplished with my writing. Any-who; I hope this post/ letter sheds a little light on a feature of mine that get SO much attention and I hope you like it x
It has been a while since we had a talk and even longer since I have acknowledged you. The thing is sometimes it gets a little difficult; to explain why you are here, to get into the nitty gritty of your existence and have a conversation that always leaves me feeling unnecessarily exposed.
I miss the old days. When people didn’t want to know EVERYTHING! Before “complete transparency” became a trend and you weren’t branded as secretive if you didn’t bare all constantly.
I used to make my mum tell me the story of how I beat the odds and survived all of the surgeries because it made me feel special (when you are one of 7 you will do what it takes to feel individual lol)
I remember wearing you as a badge of honour, kids love a scar don’t they? And mine was the MOST impressive! Then I grew up and it got a little more complicated.
People staring at my chest because I am a woman with breasts is one thing (and a completely different and potentially more frustrating problem) but staring because they have noticed you? Unbearable.
I am torn between always wearing turtle necks to stop the stares to just walking around with you hanging out because I shouldn’t have to explain why I have a scar and exactly when I acquired it (for the record my last surgery was 7years ago)
You’re mine. No-one knows what it is like to have you for the reasons the I have you, at least nobody that I have met anyway. I have become tired of the curious glances and the constant questions. Especially doing what I have chosen to do for a living.
You are hard to ignore because I think it is kiiiiiiind of obvious that I have had SOME KIND of surgery in the general chest area. Lets take this moment to give a big fat shout-out to the people who think its a botched boob job, just wanna throw it out there that they are the real MVP’s
You may be surprised by the amount of DMs I get asking me to tell all or at least offer some kind of explanation as to why there is a massive (come on guys is it reeeeeaallly THAT big?) scar in the middle of my chest, why you’re there; the people wanna know. They actually NEED to know. But today isn’t the day I’m sorry. I know we live in a tell-all world but that isn’t my style. Somethings are better left unsaid at least for the time being no? Just be happy that I’m alive and able to tease you on my blog because things could’ve been oh so different.
I used to attempt to cover you with makeup, attempt being the operative word here.
In the early days of Instagram I even went as far as to edit you out, which just seems extreme now lol but not nearly as extreme as then tattoos covering some of the other scars from my surgeries. Trying to hide the evidence made me obsessed with hiding the evidence but more than that it ensured that I was so far from the kid who would tell anyone who listened just how much of a miracle it was that I survived; I became ashamed.
I think that in this day and age where we have such control over our image and what people see, you; my scar are beyond that control. You are there regardless of followers or events. You are a constant reminder that I am lucky to be here and that is plain for everyone who has even glimpsed you to see and I learnt to hate and to try and hide that. Let’s call it self-preservation. Protecting you and myself from the gaze of others became a priority. Because of the questions that I am just not willing to answer and don’t feel like I should be forced to.
I know I am not disfigured. I know that in the grand scheme of physical flaws: we don’t come high up on the scale. I just don’t know what you are, I mean I know that you’re beautiful (in your own non-symmetrical, impossible to ignore kinda way) you’re a daily reminder of how strong I am, beyond how much I can lift or squat. But you also ignite something in people that makes them abandon reason and send me screenshots of my own photos with an added red circle drawn around you. Just in-case I didn’t know you were there. The “I’m so sorry I know you get this ALL the time but what happened?” Question which is accompanied with a look that is somewhere between horror, intrigue and pity. You make people show themselves up, but that shouldn’t be our problem.
In becoming more comfortable with you I find myself looking at you sometimes, especially on days when I am not feeling amazing and I really do think I am lucky to have you. Of course for the literal reason: without you I would be a goner but more than that, I have learnt to see you as a mark of honour. Just like I used to.
One day I will be ready to explain exactly why you are here, one day everyone will understand why I have written 2 love letters (and counting) to you and one day it won’t even matter because I would’ve done enough that a simple mark on my skin won’t be the most interesting thing about me. But until then thank you for being there for me, for reminding me of just what it means to wake up everyday and truly live. Why you exist isn’t the issue but BECAUSE you do; so do I.
Link to original letter: https://yinkabokinni.com/2017/09/15/hey-bighead/