Never be ashamed of a scar. It just means that you were stronger than whatever tried to hurt you. Scars are like tattoos.. just with better stories.
Growing up, I was never the child with the neat hair or the tidiest handwriting, I wasn't the most high achieving nor was I in the group of kids who climbed out of classroom window to skive off because I couldn't understand or be bothered with the work. I was neither the athlete nor the artist, the popular that went home with hair as glorious as it was in morning registration, nor the geek that got their coat chalked and purposely shoulder barged in the corridor.
Trying to make yourself look normal when your coming to terms with drastic changes in your appearance feels like you're acting a part in a play, it feels like real life but the audience aren't seeing the real you. Bravery is nothing to do with it, you take baby steps into the unknown and start to create a whole new you to incorporate those changes and make them feel less alien.
For those that don't know, renal failure causes a build up of fluid in the body as your kidneys are not filtering out the toxins properly, this is called nephrotic syndrome. The body swells and you become bloated. My renal failure was so severe in such a short space of time that I had 112lbs (8 stones) or 50kg of fluid build up in my body. Stomach, thighs, legs, feet and hands. I was completely unrecognisable and in turn given stretch marks an inch wide from my groin to my ribcage and deep enough they resemble a scooped out ridge of vanilla in a tub of ice-cream, my thighs almost to my knees resemble tissue paper and I have deep indents in the backs of them. Whilst many would assume they are no worse than the average 'Mum tum' I have no baby to show for it, no child to be proud of to explain away my marked and saggy midriff, I am no ' tiger who earn't her stripes' as the popular inspirational quote cards plaguing my Facebook feed claim, my body has been surrendered with no rewarding result. I am again individual in my skin and ambiguous to the unknowing world who catch may a glimpse.
As women we constantly worry what people think and how we are perceived through how we speak, act and through our own body confidence. It's a very lucky Lady who has the confidence to not think twice about an outfit and pull the first thing of the wardrobe. But to all those ladies out there scoffing at a crinkle of cellulite or getting annoyed at a tiny little belly paunch.. I say ENJOY YOUR BODIES!
It is not vain to consider an unscarred body attractive nor is it odd to say physical marks are beautiful. In public you will never see me in a dress above my knee without tights, nor a top at risk of rising up exposing my stomach but mine are war wounds and I am loved and alive because of them.
Like a lot of people I got more than my fair share of adolescent teasing, but not resulting from any stereotype. I was painfully shy but did drama, I read more books than any kid in my class but got average grades, I was on the long distance running team but hated PE, I wore glasses, had frizzy hair and wrote stories at weekends rather than knock on a friends door to hang around.
I was not quite the weird kid, not quite everyone's best friend.. and up until my diagnosis and following illness I quite liked the fact I was undefinable, non specific and amount of attention drawn to myself was limited.
I was not quite the weird kid, not quite everyone's best friend.. and up until my diagnosis and following illness I quite liked the fact I was undefinable, non specific and amount of attention drawn to myself was limited.
Insecurities with my body go back as far as I remember, from being the last one in my year to start my period and being nearly sixteen before I had anything that resembled a bust, to trying to control my weight and size of my backside throughout my twenties. I've been a size 8 and i've been a size 14 and I've always, and continue to be, my own worst critic.
When your body goes through the trauma of an illness you imagine most of the turmoil occurs within, and perhaps psychologically too. But whilst medication will control or cure your disease and therapy help relieve your mind, there is no cure or treatment for the physical scars it leaves behind, and the visual impact it continues to display. In my case, I was all of a sudden faced with a daily reminder of what my body had been through and I was horrified, knowing I'd have this map of trauma imprinted on my body as a visual reminder every day. To this day, I still hate them. But thanks to the marvellous and adoring husband who tells me how beautiful I am, they don't matter as much and my confidence is restored enough for it not to dominate my thoughts. ( I still think he's a big fibber sometimes though).
Hair grows back but the scars remain, this photo was taken 3 months post chemo and the first time I started to try and feel confident again.
Trying to make yourself look normal when your coming to terms with drastic changes in your appearance feels like you're acting a part in a play, it feels like real life but the audience aren't seeing the real you. Bravery is nothing to do with it, you take baby steps into the unknown and start to create a whole new you to incorporate those changes and make them feel less alien.
For those that don't know, renal failure causes a build up of fluid in the body as your kidneys are not filtering out the toxins properly, this is called nephrotic syndrome. The body swells and you become bloated. My renal failure was so severe in such a short space of time that I had 112lbs (8 stones) or 50kg of fluid build up in my body. Stomach, thighs, legs, feet and hands. I was completely unrecognisable and in turn given stretch marks an inch wide from my groin to my ribcage and deep enough they resemble a scooped out ridge of vanilla in a tub of ice-cream, my thighs almost to my knees resemble tissue paper and I have deep indents in the backs of them. Whilst many would assume they are no worse than the average 'Mum tum' I have no baby to show for it, no child to be proud of to explain away my marked and saggy midriff, I am no ' tiger who earn't her stripes' as the popular inspirational quote cards plaguing my Facebook feed claim, my body has been surrendered with no rewarding result. I am again individual in my skin and ambiguous to the unknowing world who catch may a glimpse.
Before my illness took hold, the insecurities with my body were trivial albeit they didn't feel that way! The fountain of all knowledge - my lovely husband - after recently seeing me prod my belly sullenly whilst in the bedroom mirror, said 'you have never been happy with your body so no matter what I say you won't believe me'. And knowing me from the age of 19 he has a good perspective yes? But the sad thing is.. I wish I had enjoyed my scar free and unabused body whilst I had the opportunity. It would have been a joy to treasure and appreciate something if you knew the damage that was soon to be done. The wonderful power of hindsight at its best.
I was really apprehensive about this picture, but I thought 'hey, once you've had your arse wiped by a stranger when you're in hospital, there's nothing to really be shy about.'
As women we constantly worry what people think and how we are perceived through how we speak, act and through our own body confidence. It's a very lucky Lady who has the confidence to not think twice about an outfit and pull the first thing of the wardrobe. But to all those ladies out there scoffing at a crinkle of cellulite or getting annoyed at a tiny little belly paunch.. I say ENJOY YOUR BODIES!
It is not vain to consider an unscarred body attractive nor is it odd to say physical marks are beautiful. In public you will never see me in a dress above my knee without tights, nor a top at risk of rising up exposing my stomach but mine are war wounds and I am loved and alive because of them.
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