I endured some truly dreadful injuries to my face this month. I’m currently in the stage where the scar tissue has formed and is healing, but that new skin is still incredibly tender. I know that I’ll be left with very obvious facial scarring for the rest of my life. The injury begins just above my hairline and extends over my brow, so that area won’t grow hair anymore. It continues down my cheek, being particularly deep there; I’ll likely always have an indentation in the fullest part of my cheek. Then, it continues down to my jawline.
In some ways, it’s not the worst. I’m relieved that it’s just a cosmetic issue. My friends are really supportive, assuring me that it’ll make me look badass and even a bit more sexy and mysterious! They say I’m still as hot as ever.
But in other ways, it’s truly awful. I realize that I’ll always be first noticed for the scar, and it’s especially painful when people look at me differently.
This week, I have to fly home for a family thing that I planned long before my injury. I’m not looking forward to the pity or people making a big deal out of it. I’d rather it not be acknowledged at all.
Recently, I met with my dermatologist, who said that I’m at the stage of scar tissue formation and that I should no longer be dressing the wounds. The skin is healing, and instead, I need to apply topical cream and Vaseline to keep the area clean and moist.
It doesn’t look very appealing right now. The building scar tissue is extremely red and tender, and with the Vaseline on top, it gives off a slick and shiny appearance.
So, I board this flight. I have the window seat and put on my headphones, dozing off as the plane is still boarding.
I wake up to a little kid, maybe four years old, sitting next to me and having a tantrum. I don’t catch the beginning of it, and I can’t quite make out what he’s yelling about. His father leans over to talk to me.
Father: “Can you cover that injury?”
Me: “My dermatologist advises against it, so no, I don’t think I will.”
He starts getting a bit sharp with me.
Father: “There’s no need to be so rude. That injury is quite graphic, and it’s scaring my little one.”
Me: “This is my face – the only face I have. It sucks being told I’m so ugly that I can’t show my face in public.”
He starts to backpedal.
Father: “Just until it heals!”
Me: “It’ll always be with me. Maybe you should teach some freaking compassion and respect instead of telling a girl half your age what you think about her face. That’s really rude.”
He actually got up after that and I think he went to a stewardess to ask for a seat change because a young couple came to sit next to me a few minutes later.
I have to admit, I felt so low that I put on my sunglasses and had a quiet cry for a while.
