“Proud of a certain scar on your body."

This will be an easy one. I don’t have too many mental or physical scars (see my previous post about having quite a fortunate life). The ones I do have don’t carry much meaning if I had to be completely honest.

My left arm has a huge surgical scar running along the whole length of it. I was skateboarding at a skatepark and fell on my arm. For a brief moment, I believe I touched my own armpit. The break ended up being a rather complicated one with the healing process taking over a year, requiring metal plates, screws, grafted bone from my hips, and a ton of physiotherapy.

Now that I think of it, I actually have good memories of walking to physiotherapy after school, trudging through gray snow and gray skies, my headphones blasting whatever album I fancied at the time. It was like a little slice of adult life: keeping my appointments, finding my own way to the hospital, and being responsible for my own recovery.

I guess that scar is scabulous after all.