Beautiful battle scars

I’m having one of those weeks where I’m ashamed to be feeling my age. My bones are achy, my muscles are sore, my joints are screaming at me to take a freaking break already. But here’s the thing — I can’t. It’s just not in my power.

(Side note: I forced myself to opt out of a 5k today due to the fact that I have been limping and in pain because of my long-overdue need to visit a chiropractor. I finally listened to my body! YAY!)

Most days, I scoff at those who try to remind me I’m a mere mortal (MOM!). In fact, I am constantly reminded that I’ve had these same beliefs since the time I was little.

When I was but a young pup, I was obsessed with Lynda Carter as Wonder Woman, as well as the Superfriends cartoons. So at the ripe age of 6-ish, armed with my trusty Wonder Woman Underoos and the conviction that I was most definitely the Amazon Princess, I leapt fearlessly from one side of my family’s driveway to the other. After all, why wouldn’t I be able to fly across a two-car driveway? My heroine had proved to me that I, too, could be strong, powerful, fearless, and beautiful, which naturally meant I could will myself to fly.

Dad was watching me that day, so hours later, when my mom returned home, she found me with a giant bloody gash in my forehead and no stitches to fix the damage that had been done.

Quite honestly, I’m glad I never got the stitches. That scar on my forehead reminds me that I most certainly am strong and fearless. The thing that I’ve learned is that even Wonder Woman has her battle scars. It definitely doesn’t make us any less amazing.

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