IMG_0819Thunder rumbled and crackled.  Then the rain came – for a minute or two.  It was a dramatic sound display.

Now we are left with the heat, humidity and mosquitoes.  I am in a bad mood.  I hope no one expects lunch any time soon.  I am sapped of energy.  Sheba is lucky she got walked.  I can blame it on the positive ions left from the thunder.  Everyone knows that they are not great for our moods and well being.

I have to admit that I am not known for my pleasing disposition, even as a child.  Funny how some things stick in your mind.

29742_390272485886_7930121_nThe aunties in our village and my paternal grandmother were always telling me I was a grumpy girl and that no man would marry me.  My mother never told me that.  But the message took hold.  And that was how I always thought of myself.  I often warned people of my grumpiness – that it was me, not them that was the problem.  I turned sour and defiant inside.

These aunties and my grandmother would later tell me again that no man will have me because of the scar sustained from a burn.  It was big but on the inside of my left arm.  It was not readily noticeable.

IMG_6851I could not remember a time without the scar.  I was quite self conscious of it, wearing long sleeves and sweaters even in the heat of summer.  I hid it by holding my arm close to my body.  In a family photo shortly before we left Hong Kong, I was noticeably turning my arm to hide my scar.  There were times I wondered how my life would be different if my arm was smooth and whole.  But I could not conjure it up.  The gnarled scar tissue stared back at me.

I outgrew my sensitivity when I became a nurse. The uniforms were short-sleeved.  It was too much effort to be self conscious, trying to hide my scar.  I flaunted it and joked about it.  Eventually it ceased to be an issue.

Today, I see how vain I was.  So many people are walking around with bigger and more visible scars than mine.  But I realize that I was but a child then, sensitive and easily impressed.   Now, I know the adults were not trying to be mean.  They were just talking without thought, not knowing how their words affected me.

I had no voice then, but now I do and I am talking.

About hafong

Hello! My name is (Leung) Hafong alias Lily Leung. You always say the last name first….that is the Chinese way. That is my partner lurking behind me. Since this is my blog, I won’t mention his name. But this is a rather cool picture. You see me and yet you don’t…sort of the way I feel about myself most of my life. So this blog is a self-exploration, an archeology dig of some sort. My tools…..words of a thousand or so at a sitting. I will try for that.
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