On Legs

Now Playing: Dressin' Up by Katy Perry (are you ready for your blood to rise?)

I am well aware of the scars on my legs.

Which may be an odd thing to say, seeing as they're my legs and I do see them on a pretty regular basis, but the way some people harp on about it...I think they forget that I do see myself in the shower, you know.

The scars have been there for a long time. I'm a pretty klutzy person; I was a very clumsy kid, and I got into a lot of scrapes. My knees were more or less permanently scabby from about four to about ten, and I've still got scars from that.

I first got chicken pox at the ripe old age of eleven, so that's what most of the older scars are - the ones that are mostly fading now. The rest are just mosquito bites, allergies...who knows?

Am I self conscious? A little. I don't like it when people ask, but it's worse when they don't say nothing and just stare. They used to be a lot worse - they used to bleed, and I used to have to carry bandaids with me everywhere. Now they're just smooth purple marks and I don't really notice them anymore.

So I don't have a contagious disease. I know about my scars, and telling me about them won't do anything about them. Scars...physical scars fade. It's the more metaphysical hurts that still sting.