The After Effects

I was born with epidermolysis bullosa. More simply put, layers of skin on my legs were not fully developed when I was born. Eventually my legs healed, but not without leaving some trace. I have scars that run from my toes to my knees. When I was in elementary school, I was very self-conscious about my legs. I never liked to wear shorts because I was afraid of what people would think. When we went to assemblies and had to sit on the ground, I would always sit criss-cross-applesauce to try to hide the scars. It usually worked, but sometimes classmates would ask me what happened and I would tell them, unwillingly.

I do not know when, but eventually I stopped caring about my scars. Today, I go on for days not realizing that the scars are there. They are just a part of who I am. Occasionally people ask me about my legs. Before, I would not want to tell them because I was embarrassed, but now I do not want to tell them because I get tired of repeating the story. Sometimes people tell me that my legs are really dry and I just agree with them, not wanting to tell the story for the hundredth time. However, when I do tell people my story, I feel extremely blessed. Some children never grow out of the condition and have to live with it their entire life. Others never survive pass infancy. My legs are a constant reminder to me that God has blessed me with this life and without Him, I cannot do anything. Since my scars look like burns, my friends and family tell me that I should tell people that I saved my little sister from a burning building. I have yet to try it. 

In Between

There are stereotypes about being the middle child. Sometimes the middle child is said to have "middle child syndrome". I however, do not see the problem of living in between. People believe that the middle child is neglected, and constantly vie for their parents' attention. However, being in the middle has its advantages. For one, my older brother acts as the guinea pig as my parents try to guide him in the right direction. By the time I reach that point in my life, my parents know what and what not to do. When my brother was beginning to drive, my mom reacted to every red break light, sharp turn, or sudden move. She unexpectedly shriek and brace herself by slamming her hands against the car door. I found this quite funny, and even teased her about it, but I was worried she would act the same when I started to drive. The day finally came when I got my permit and had to drive with my mom. I was expecting her to squeal at every turn I made, but surprisingly she was much calmer. Even though she still had her moments, I never had to experience the stress of being the first teenage driver in the family. 

Being the middle child also makes me the older sister too. Just like any oldest sibling, I get to be more independent. My sister, being the youngest, has to deal with my parents constantly checking up on her and making sure she is doing what is supposed to do. My parents trust that I am more responsible and allow me to have more privileges, such as being able to go places with my friends. 

"How come the middle child appears so different?"people may ask. Some hypothesize it's because they are overlooked. This is my response: It's because we are different! Everyone constantly tells me that my older brother and my younger sister look, act, and even laugh exactly the same. Then they look at me and say, "You aren't anything like them." I laugh because I get this reaction every time someone realizes that we are related. I somewhat like the fact that I do not look or act like them. I get to make a name for myself before people discover my relation to my siblings. I take pleasure in being different from them.