There is so much pressure to be beautiful. To be beautiful means to have beautiful skin. To look flawless. To look healthy. What if you were covered in scars? What if you had chicken skin on your arm? What if you always felt the need to cover up and camouflage your body? When you look better covered up than exposed…shouldn’t it be the other way around? What if you were so ashamed of how your body looked you wore sweaters in the summer time? Picture a hot sunny day, the sun rays are beating down on you and you had to keep yourself covered. You looked around and saw so many girls in tank tops or halter tops. It saddened me. It made me depressed. I wanted to go sleeveless, I wanted to show off my skin, I wanted to be cool and not sweating like a stuffed pig. But no. The stares would be unbearable. The looks of disgust, the frowns were something I could not handle. I stayed covered up. Covered in long sleeves. Long hot sleeves. Hiding myself from snarls, stares and disgust. I keep my arm protected. I took pictures on my right side never on my left. I hid my arm from everybody and everything. Not by choice. Because I had to!
Tag: Burn survivor
Beauty Marks
“Mama, why do I have spots on my body?” That is a question I had always asked my mom. Her response never changed, “They are your beauty marks.” Even though she would tell me this, I never felt beautiful. I wanted to be beautiful. I wanted to fit in. I wanted normal skin. Beautiful flawless skin. Skin without scars, without spots. Why did this happen to me? Why did I get so unlucky? These were questions I had asked myself on a daily basis. I would wake up in the morning, look into the mirror and then look away. Finally after graduating highschool, I decided that I would not let my spots get the best of me. I decided to do some research. I made an appointment with a dermatologist and found out I had Vitiligo. That’s my disease. That’s why I am so different. I now had two options. I could either let this disease get the best of me or I could learn to embrace it. It wasn’t until I had went to a gas station and saw the most beautiful woman covered in spots. Covered in spots and showing them off. Not ashamed. Not embarrassed. I thought to myself, hey she is like me, she is spotted. I felt the need to talk to her. I had to approach her. I needed to hear her story. I had no idea how I was going to approach her but I did. I slowly asked, “Do you have Vitiligo?” I think I startled her. She dropped her coffee all on the ground. I felt so embarrassed. Why did I approach her? Why did I ask her if I already knew the answer? “Oh, you mean my beauty marks?” She replied. My heart skipped a beat and my mouth dropped wide open. I started to tear up and studdered, “bbbeeaauuttyy mmaarrkkss?” “Yes, these are my beauty marks. Only people who are unique and special are blessed with these beauty marks like ours.” I wanted to wrap my arms around this lady and give her the biggest hug possible. I stood there and stared at her. I had so many questions to ask her. She cleaned up her coffee and gave me a huge smile. She seemed like she was in a hurry. I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted to talk to her. She started to walk away. I followed her. She got to the counter to pay for her coffee. She probably thought I was a weirdo for following her but I needed to talk to her. She turned as she was leaving and said “Remember, don’t ever think that you are not beautiful and no matter what anybody says, just know that there’s not that many people out there who can be like us.” It made me feel so special after hearing those kind words. I watched her walk away. I was left speechless and shocked. This woman had spots, more spots than I had but she embraced them. She showed them off. I left that gas station that day feeling better than I have in my whole entire life. That lady changed my life forever.
Camouflage
I wanted to write about my last experience at a clothing store for bigger sized women. I will not say the name of the store. I wanted to shop there because I find that Wal-Mart and Target have nice clothes but their clothes are not fashionable. Well to me at least they aren’t. So I went into the store with every intention to find a cute outfit. I had a family party coming up and I wanted a new fresh out fit. I started looking at the pants. I had a sales associate walk up to me and started to push pants on me. I am a big girl. I know what looks good on me and what doesn’t. She proceeded to show me pants all around the store. Each one she brought up I found something wrong with it. I have to say, even though I am a big girl I know my body. On top of the fact that I am a big girl I have had to hide my body my entire life. Next we started looking at shirts…oh the shirts! Having to cover my fat arms and my scars…but look at all these tank tops!! Look at all these sleeveless shirts..soooo beautiful!! I look at them at get more and more sad. Sad at the fact of how fashion is and what is considered to be something that looks good. Am I feeling sorry for myself? Maybe. Maybe I am stuck in a world where I do not belong. A world full of beautiful skinned people with perfect bodies. When you have scars or you are overweight you want to do your best to hide. I want to look fashionable and not show off my skin. How is that possible in a world full of Victoria Secret and Kardashians? Isn’t it fashionable to show off your skin? Aren’t you considered beautiful if you show off your skin? Camouflage! Cover it up and look fabulous. You wear spanx and work it girl!! You push that fat in and cover up. I swear I now the ability to cover up, still look sexy and most importantly feel comfortable in my own skin. I have always wanted to start a clothing line for bigger women with scars. Bigger women with insecurities. Bigger women who could cover up and look fabulous. Maybe change fashion to cover up and make exposing yourself taboo again. Who am I kidding!! Needless to say, I walked out of the store empty handed and just put together something in my closet. I felt great about my body and had a great time.
Scarred
Scared, terrified, hands sweaty, fingers trembling, feeling like she is in someone elses skin, body and mind, why can’t people see her fears? Hear her thoughts? wanting someone to listen, kiss her, be there for her when she needs love, rough and wild love, pure not nasty, looking at me crazy, look past her body, replace my scars, take away all these horrific scars, so silent, completely alone, kiss her softly, sexually, tickle her in a naughty way, no one notices her, what are you doing? be with me, hold me, wanting too much, hating life, gloomy thoughts, only one suffering, no one cares, playing with my mind, destroying my life, confused, dazed, lost. Hear me, take me, don’t leave me alone, care for just me, letting myself loose, getting stares, these awful unforgiving stares, STOP STARING AT ME!! hating to be looked at, wanting pleasure, bring pleasure, words told, unthoughtful words, hearing nothing, eyes are deceiving, bring pleasure, emptiness, bare surroundings, silence, blackness, darkness, come to me, i am angry, killing my heart, feeling helpless, no memories, blankness, is there more than this? getting lost, suffering mind, tremendous fear, always losing, no reflection, invisible to the world, outside looking in, alone, fearing people, try to be free, no care, no love
Memories
Do you ever have flashbacks of your younger years? I get them more now than ever. I have random memories pop up and I feel lost in that moment. Some memories are amazing others not so much. My latest memory was when I was in 3rd grade. They had these huge metal rings that you would swing on. You had to stand in line to get your turn. It was my turn and I look over to my left and I see my mom on the playground. My mom worked as an assist in a classroom and helped out in classrooms. My hands were very sweaty so I wiped them off on my jeans and reached for the first ring. Because of my burn I was not able to stretch out my arm as my other arm. My mom started walking in closer. I just smiled at her as if I was reassuring her that I was ok. I then proceeded to start a swinging motion for the second ring. My hand had slipped and I feel into the bark. I heard a couple of snickers but I brushed myself off and stood up. Before I knew it my mom was grabbing me under my underarns and tried to put me on the rings. I got so upset. I started kicking my legs and telling her no. Some of the kids got upset and started telling me I had to wait in line again. I felt so embarrassed. Why would my mom do this to me? Did she feel sorry for me?
All my life I was treated differently than my sister. I was given more and shown more love. They say favoritism shouldn’t exsist in a family. That’s all I felt growing up. I was given special treatment because I was burned. I felt bad for my sister. Till this day my mom and sisters relationship is very toxic. I am always put in the middle of their arguements. I hear both sides and I have to stay neutral. My sister doesn’t understand my mom and my mom doesn’t understand my sister. Its a constant struggle. I love both of them dearly.
My Birthday
This year I have been asked several times what I would like for my birthday. I really thought about this. What I would love would be to give back. I decided to start a fundraiser for Shiners Hospital. My goal is to raise $1,000.00 by May 1, 2019.
I had the opportunity to stay at Shriners for a week while I received three releases on my arm. It was an amazing opportunity. I was provided the best care and had amazing nurses. My dad also stayed with me and took great care of me. It was awesome!! I thought the best way for me to make my birthday even better would be to give back. Here is the link to my fundraiser!
https://donate.lovetotherescue.org/fundraiser/1968881
Snapchat
What a genius idea. To take womens worst flaws and disguise them to the point that the whole face changes. Eye color changes, wrinkles are erased, acne is covered up. It can take 20 years off of your life. Some use snapchat for fun but others use it to really cover up a flaw. When I was burned I had the boiling water splash onto my chin. My mom thought it would be a wonderful idea to do a simple surgery to remove my burn. The simple surgery turned into a scar that looks like my neck was slashed in an alley. Funny because I actually used that as a made up story to how I got that scar. I have to laugh at my scars because they are permante. Permanent. A devastating word. Its permanent. Something that will never change nor go away.
She is stronger than ever! 