Getting over it...

I got burnt in a fire accident almost 11 yrs ago. It took place in school, after a dance performance on our sports day. We kids were instructed to file into a matador that would circle our sports field after the completion of our dance. Dressed as Santa Clauses, complete with cushions, and raw cotton lining the red suit we were wearing, we were told to wave at the audience with lit sparklers in our hands. We were a disaster waiting to happen.
Over such a long time span, my memory of that fateful day has blurred but the repercussions haven't. I was burnt on both the legs. My calves mainly, and the area right behind the knee. For years I didn't make peace with not being able to run as fast as I used to. The reason being, I'd damaged some nerves in the accident. Worse still was enduring stares from rank strangers who'd grimace at the scars. Things like these don't do much for a eleven year old's confidence.
I almost stopped wearing shorts outside and I soon grew out of the 'skirt and blouse' wearing phase too. I'd only wear jeans and pants and the like. That's because understandably I didn't want to draw attention to the scars at all. A lot of times I'd be tempted to wear something minuscule, but the idea of getting pitying glances and having to plunge into a long story of how it happened, always made me think otherwise.
My friends did their best to bring me out of my shell, but to no avail. (And God knows I drove them up the wall by not listening) It was only when I spoke to a school friend (who'd been in the accident with me) some months ago, that I began changing my perspective...
It's true that often, people see us as we see ourselves. If one's comfortable in one's own skin, people around, are too. It's when we're apologetic about something, that most people don't know how to react. And this inturn leads to alot of awkwardness that's seen as unacceptance. Most times, the people whom we seek approval from are the ones who want to see us being happy and want us to be ourselves. Scars or no scars, irrespective.
Two months before the 11th anniversary of the fateful incident and five days shy of my 22nd birthday, I wore the most daring outfit I have, by far. A little black dress. And that's the first time in all this while I've worn something outside to show off my scars. No leggings to cover the marks and no stockings to make them less visible.
I wore it to go out partying with a bunch of friends and I had the best time ever. No one at the pub even noticed, and my pals didn't give a damn. We just had the most wonderful time and this one experience has helped me get over one of the biggest things I'd had a complex about.
It doesn't take as much strength to hold on as it does to let go... Let go of one's anxieties and insecurities. But once one has, there's no looking back. Now I want to bring on all the shorts and tiny frocks I can (much to my conservative mom's horror!)... But its wonderful when one get's past obstacles and speed bumps in life. Makes one feel confident and happy about finally getting over one's fears and issues. I'm not worried so much about my scars anymore... It's about perspective and all in one's mind at the end of the day. Amen!