I was reading another one of those trashy women’s fashion magazines and getting angry. Again. I really should stop reading them, but I can’t help it – sometimes I just like to feel angry.
There were numerous reasons as to why I was getting angry at this particular one, but one of the main ones were the cosmetic surgery ads that littered the magazine. I have ranted about this before but now I’m angry again.
Seriously, magazines. Stop trying to make women feel bad. Stop sending the message that undergoing traumatic surgery is the only way a person can feel good about themselves. It’s not.
I have a million scars over my body. Well, maybe not a million (I haven’t done a proper count), but some days it feels like it. They all tell a story, though.
The biggest ones are the bright red stretch marks across my hips. The stretch marks are also on my boobs, inner thighs, calves, and near my armpits. These are the battle scars from Cushing’s Disease. When they first appeared, I was quite upset. I thought that after surgery and after the pituitary tumour was removed, the stretch marks would magically disappear.
They didn’t, and they have now been there for about two years and three months. They have faded, but they are still noticeably there. I don’t remember what I looked like without them, but to be honest, I think that if they disappeared, I would miss them. They remind me every day that I am alive, and that life used to be much worse. They remind me that not having Cushing’s is a wonderful thing.
I have a few other scars. I have them on my knees and elbow, which is another cool story – they came from falling off my bike in Vietnam. They remind me of the two weeks I spent with some amazing people, on a bike, in a beautiful country. That trip gave me the travel bug, for which I will be forever grateful.
There are some scars on my bum and upper thighs – these are from the bed bug bites I got in Zanzibar, Tanzania. The bed bugs were horrendous, but Zanzibar was spectacular. I had the bites with me on the trip into the Ngorongoro Crater and the Serengeti National Park, and those were incredible, even with the constant itching. As much as I hate the bed bugs, I remember the good experiences I had with them more.
And finally, there are mosquito bite marks EVERYWHERE. Even if I don’t scratch the bites, they leave a mark. I do my best to avoid getting them, but mozzies in Arusha, Tanzania are an ever pervasive force. Every day I discover a new bite that was not there the previous day. I wear long trousers, long sleeved tops, shoes and socks. I sleep in a mosquito net, and I wear DEET-strength insect repellent. And still, the little buggers get me. But even though they are a very irritating part of life here, there are many more good things about life here, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.
So no, my body is not perfect. It is far from it. But I still think it is amazing. My brain works, I have full mobility, my pituitary gland works, my adrenal glands work, I don’t have a terrible disease like HIV/AIDs, and I am generally reasonably healthy. That’s all I need. That’s all anyone should need. Be happy you’re alive, and be happy you’re healthy. You don’t need a bum lift, or boob enlargements, or liposuction, or to get rid of your wrinkles. That’s just a lie that the cosmetic surgeons and beauty magazines cooked up. Don’t believe them.
