Well, at least, I dig my own scars.
It occurred to me while I was in the Bahamas (!!!), on a dive boat, looking down at the top of my left foot, that I will probably get a scar from where the fin was rubbing.
And that made me think about all of my other scars on my legs and feet.
I have two faint lines on each achilles, because I had the pointe shoe ribbons with elastic in them, and I liked them tied as tight as they would go.
I have a round scar above my right ankle from a day of non-stop dancing at drill camp.
I have two large lines on my left shin from battling a branch while hiking.
I have a round scar above my left ankle from a rope walker that I had to use to get out of a vertical cave bounce.
And now I have one on the top of my left foot from scuba diving.
As I realized all this, I thought, my scars are AWESOME!
I could go on to write about the metaphorical and existential conundrums that scars are, and how they are symbolic for the meteoric struggles and imperfections that the vast collective humanity will leave upon the universe or something, but really, I was just thinking about my scars, and how they each got there. That’s all.
I hope I get a few more scars from doing awesome things, and lines from too many days in the sun, and wrinkles and crow’s feet from smiling and laughing too much.
After all, these things can be incredibly useful. I mean, Dumbledore had a scar above his left knee that was a perfect map of the London underground. Useful.