Badges of Honor

Hi.

Scar - 

(n) a wound that has healed poorly, or without the sufficient nutrients, causing the location to be filled with fibrous connective tissue instead of the correct skin and body tissues.

Or, like I like to consider it, a permanent memory etched into your skin, a reminder that you have lived your life and have the proof - probably a mindset more akin to that of age old cultures with a bit of a romantic flair to the whole thing. (which frankly is kind of weird now that I've typed it out... I'm really strange... :P).

Now of course I mentioned that I have this romantic mentality to this whole thing. I'm pretty sure that if you talk to people with legitimate scars, not many of them would have pleasant stories to weave (I can imagine that a good number of them would be stories of foolish mistakes). In fact I'm pretty sure all the historic or fantasy novels have spun dreams of grandeur in my mind towards the idea of scars.

If I think on it, what readily comes to mind are the scars caused by surgeries or in the process of surgery to attempt to heal that which has been cruelly mutilated. And it altogether becomes a horrific path for my mind to take. Since most of which I recall are the horribly unlucky children with birth defects, soldiers wounded in battle, victims of rape, and other highly detailed descriptions laid in my mind by those authors who have the ability to give you a glimpse of such pain. These aren't glorified marks of passage into adulthood or medals of honor for bravery. They are a grim reminder to those who bear them of their own pasts. So it then makes me wonder, how is it that from a young age, I've always been fascinated with acquiring scars of my own to wear proudly?

I most definitely must not have been thinking of scars that would mar ones face. Frankly, I like my face too much for it. Well, that may not exactly be the case... Like those cool looking ones on the eyebrow and all that jazz? Ok, well maybe not on a girl? After all, in a lot of cases, scarring is considered ugly, a defect of some kind, especially when it comes to women. A scar highlights imperfection, and if nothing else, we all can definitely agree that over the centuries women have definitely pursued the ultimate beauty, which makes scarring a no-no.

So I guess when I've ever thought of a scar, it's never been in that drastic sort of way, and never near my face. I mean I do have that one little scar (which looks more like a little indent) near my eyebrow from when I was younger and ill with the chicken pox, but really not the most life changing or devastating thing in the world. And hey, it's not like I even remember any of it either. Oh and there's that one on my knee from when I was learning to ride a bike - but still, I was too young to really remember anything except for the fact that it's not fun to fall on concrete. Which meant I was still on a quest for a "meaningful" scar of some kind.

I can't really remember when I became fascinated with scarring. Of course, I don't refer to things like acne scars or anything... not so awesome at all. But I do vaguely remember that I started to become fascinated with any large scrapes I got, and trying to make them into scars. You know, by picking at the scabs, and prematurely revealing the newly grown layer of skin. Obviously, these were highly futile efforts, given that the duration of the "scar" really only lasted a few days. Which really is practically nothing in terms of longevity.

The first real scar I got is actually one that I'm very proud of. In a way it kind of describes who I am: my baking scar. It's a burn scar about 2 inches long and half an inch wide across the inside of my right forearm (more above the radius than the ulna).

Back in high school, as I was developing my baking skills, I had chosen to employ the use of a new baking glove, a product branded by food network. It was a rubbery, silicone sort of thing, covered in small bumps to increase traction when gripping dishes being taken out of the oven. At the time, I was baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies (Alton Brown's chewy recipe with a few alterations), and I was pulling out the recently completely round from the oven.

Now, when I bake cookies, I like to use circular baking stones because the earthenware allows for a more even heating and bakes the treats consistently throughout the tray. To provide you with a better visualization, the oven at home is stacked below the microwave in one unit. So I must bend to insert/retrieve items. In the process of standing to lift the baking stone out of the oven and place it upon the kitchen island, my hand slide outward from the glove (which was placed towards the middle underneath the stone). And due to the increased gripping power of the glove, it remained in its location under the stone, thereby exposing my forearm which came in contact with the outer edge of the baking stone.

Despite the duress, I managed to safely transfer the cookies and perform the proper techniques to care for the burn (place under cool water plus burn ointment). Of course after a bit of time, a blister had formed over the site. Obviously, I could not stand the blister. So, I leeched it of the liquid collecting inside and tore away the loose skin to expose the underlying skin. After airing the blister, I applied my usual ointments and bandages for the skin to heal. However, unlike most other burns I had endured (through hot glue gun mishaps) I was left with a noticeable scar on my forearm, which I proudly bore. I swear I was probably alike to a kindergardener who brought in the frog for show-and-tell that day.

Currently however, it has begun to truly fade, a third of its original size and faint in comparison. It makes me wonder when my next skin memory will be formed that means something to me. I mean it's not like I'd have to wait long to get my next semi-permanent scar.

Just a few days after my baking scar I ran into the door leading into the school bathroom (I didn't even realize I was injured until my lab partner pointed out the bleeding) and it's still faintly there as if to keep my baking scar company. And just recently during my visit to Hawaii, I have a pseudo-scar caused by a scratch on my calf from the volcanic rock lining the springs of waterfalls (I call it pseudo because I think it's only visible due to my wonderful dark tan... >.>). It's too bad it wasn't legit: a visual reminder of the amazing times we had in Hawaii.

So I don't doubt that it'll happen. It's just that I know it'll be a while before one has been created during something meaningful to myself. In fact I anticipate a lot of idiotic clumsy maneuverings before I eventually manage to have both meaning and injury coincide just as they had done back in high school.


Even though I have the scars that mean something to me... sometimes it might be nice to forget some of the crazy ones I've gotten, if just for the occasional night (it's not fun to think about my own idiocy :P):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mtS8WpoGtYc