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.