Unlike other girls, I just love my scars. I think they're cool. Most of them have some very interesting stories. Some of my favorites involve not even knowing where the scar came from.
Which is why I wasn't so happy when my mom decided years ago that it was time for one of those scars to go. It was one I'd had since I was very little, though it had recently begun to grow darker.
It was, is, and always will be my favorite scar.
The reason I hate Mederma specifically is because it was what my mom used. I still have the scar, but it's so light now that I can't even see it if I'm not looking very closely.
I've considered numerous times to just cut myself with a knife over the old scar to bring it back. I don't usually harm myself, and I haven't attempted to bring back the scar yet.
Yes, I know I have an unhealthy obsession with this scar, but I can't help it. I was plenty obsessed before my mom lightened it.
And as you've all probably heard, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder!"
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