Accepting Your Flaws

Everyone at some point in their life has disliked or even hated some parts of their bodies—except if you think extremely highly of yourself and have always thought you were perfect, then cheers to you. It may have started in your early days, or in your 20s, or much later in your life. With me it was my skin, my hair, and my teeth; it seems like a lot of stuff to dislike about yourself, and it is. It was not the color of my skin per se, it was what happened to it. When I was about four or five years old, I got into a home accident and I was burnt by some hot beans. When I tell people this, they think it’s weird. But you can get burnt by anything hot, it’s the temperature that counts. My aunt was making some delicious porridge beans, and my clumsy self stumbled into the place making a fuss about hot chocolate—I loved it so much then, I had it every night. In an effort to get me out of the kitchen, I mistakenly hit it and fell, and the whole thing came tumbling down. I can’t remember the pain, but I know I was in a lot of pain. I believe my aunt poured water on me, which made it worse—some research says that works sometimes. Honestly, I don’t know, I'm not a medical person, I just know it made it worse. My parents weren't around so my neighbors had to take me to the hospital. I remember it so well: There were a lot of people in the car, it was a family, so the husband in the driver's seat, the wife in the passenger's seat carrying me, their daughter in the backseat, and there were others in the backseat—I can’t remember who they were (I guess not so well now, Chimdi). I remember their daughter crying because we were close friends. I looked at her wondering why she was crying so much when I was the one in pain, I wasn’t even crying that hard 😀 ha... not for long, because I turned and I looked at myself and I started screaming, again, because my skin was peeling. I wasn’t in that much pain, it was the fact that my skin was peeling that made me cry. I’m actually laughing writing this, but that’s why time heals.

The burn was all over my chest to my stomach, both arms, a little on one of my thighs, my back, and also on my chin. I am so blessed it didn’t get my face. 😊 I believe since it happened early in my life, I was able to accept it much earlier. But I hated it. Let's not talk of the pain and discomfort—I don’t want to make this sappy—but I didn’t like my skin very much growing up after that. I didn’t want to wear clothes that showed my arms. My brothers called me bulletproof because of how tough it was; I still love them and I actually took it as a compliment, much later in life though. Two of my classmates in elementary school said I had a beard. It wasn’t so much fun, I don’t remember when exactly I started accepting it, but it was a slow process. When I was younger, I wanted to wear short-sleeved shirts and dresses—those were the prettier ones—and so, I grew some balls and just wore them trying not to care what people said. It was the little children, much younger than I was, who actually made it hard. They were scared of me because of my skin—that hurt, but I have a wonderful family, that cared about and loved me, that it didn’t affect me much. So that’s when my acceptance started, then high school helped (if you read my stories, which I strongly urge you to, pretty please, you know I went to an all-girls high school). Since it was all girls, there was really no hiding, and a lot of girls will see your whole body when you were taking a shower or dressing up. What could I do? Make my own separate shower and dorm room? No. That’s where I learned to be most comfortable in my skin, and as I grew older, I walked around in my sexy underwear—more like short shorts and bra tops, everyone dressed like that in the dorms. Even worse, it was an all-girls school, what do you expect? Just bring your mind back here, don’t let it go too far now. 😊

After high school, in university I started to realize that there was no other Chimdi Chime in the world. I was the only one, and that’s what I want you to think about. You know how people talk so highly of things that are one of a kind—the only one of it in the world, the only car, or jewelry, or the only toilet like it in the world (you know those fancy toilets that can do everything for you, yeah). And how expensive those things are, like someone's whole life savings and more. Think of yourself that way, You... Are... The... Only... You... in this whole entire universe. There is nobody like you. Let that sink into your head. Once it does, you’ll begin to accept anything and everything about your body, because if you don’t, no one else could do it quite like you. You can’t hide your specialty from the world forever. You want the world to know you are an amazing being, what other chance are they going to get to discover the only one of you? None. That’s how I completely accepted my skin, then my hair—the acceptance of the way my hair is, is still a journey, but I'm accepting it day by day and learning to be me, with all the parts of myself. My teeth were actually not a big problem. I used to talk about it before—not being straight or whatever—but you can fix those things these days with money that I don’t have, but someday if I still want to. So, I still like my teeth, I just need to get a really good toothpaste to make it whiter. 😀 I'll be fine with that. Accept yourself just the way you are because you are unique.