it was late in the evening

I've wanted to talk about this for a while. Years, really. Afterall, Sophia turns 5 in November, and you'd think I'd have come to terms with her by now.

First, I'm not a perfectionist. Far from it. And I'm also thankful for this body. Daily. And now I'm gonna admit to the pain that's lodged in the right side of my abdomen. It's the pain of a lost illusion (be that physical perfection or great credit or a government that actually takes care of its [middle-incomed and] poor and ill), of things not going as planned, of the kind of detour that makes you forget where you started out and causes you to rechart the course you're on. Sophia, she's part of me, and ultimately, my life's better for the experience. It's just that I wish she wasn't so damn ugly. So obvious. So weird.

All is vanity. It seems so shallow. The funny thing is, vanity has never been my strong suit. So this tension I feel with my Lady the Scar, it's a sign that I've actually started to engage with the surface of my physical self. Vital? Not necessarily. Important? I think so.

And how do I find some peace with this? I don't know that I can ever be fully okay with what went down (understanding your mortality does that, as does the ripple effect of all those hospital bills). I look at my belly and I wonder what I'd be like without this big jutting scar. I have no feeling around the line of the incision-- and maybe that's what I'm like around this-- I can't quite connect to accepting it, to seeing this flaw and accepting it as legacy, as personal lore, as-- believe it or not-- part of how I found the way to better health and fitness. But that's it-- this ugly thing associated with terrible weakness and pain is tied inextricably to finding my strength, my power, my way.

Whoa.