Ok, well we haven't made it to the bar yet, but we have at least made it out this morning to get my long overdue oil change completed. I figured while I look at the underbelly of the car here at the dealership, I might as well write. The fog is still an unwelcomed guest, but he ventures out each afternoon for several hours to visit someone else, hopefully not you, until the following day when he finds himself right back on my doorstep the following morning. This is day 3 of such behavior, and at least we have a trend. I am hopeful he will soon choose to go out visiting in the mornings as well.
Did I tell you I looked at my scar? I did this on Tuesday as promised and only a few short seconds of spilled tears. But I am getting so much better at this. I think of those women out there that not only embrace their scar, but REALLY embrace it, as in The Scar Project. I am not yet sure how I feel about that, but I do support the awareness they raise and the empowerment they provide. These scars have created a sort of underground (above ground?) society of women all joined by incisions of varying style and degree. But despite the variety, I am sure the incredible box of what they represent are all wrapped in the same paper of emotions though of varying spectrums. I am proud to be part of that society and day by day I inch closer to that embracing and empowerment other ladies of mastectomy said would come. I don't see myself displayed across a canvas, but I do see myself behind the stage in support of getting women through this life event. 1 in 8 is strong number and one I now sit on my mantle in support. Consider me a support bra.
Below is a picture I worked hard to capture tastefully so you will have some perspective of this last surgery should you find yourself there. Only an inch of many, and cropped down to be respectable, I hope. I wasn't able to capture the others, as they are more precariously placed, but this one I could capture on the side. I simply want women to know the scars can fade down to almost nothingness. Well, it will always be something, but I hope more of a badge of honor than an eyesore.
A fog, a bruise, and a girl walk into a car dealership....baby steps.