Despite my usual propensity to overthink, I clicked the link and realized just how certain I was about modeling when I hit an unexpected snag: no time slots remained. Disappointed but not undaunted, I sent a private message to the organizing photographer, Sophie Elgort. Could she possibly accommodate one more?
Seven hours later, I embraced complete freedom, uninhibited as I removed my clothes. Other women in the space, none of whom had mastectomies, admired me for my comfort with my scars, but what I’ve come to appreciate is how my scars brought me greater comfort with my body.
This body, now, was finally beautiful not only in spite of its scars but also because of them. This body, now, deserved to be fully seen, celebrated, and photographed.
Over the course of my cancer journey, my perspective on scars shifted. During early consults with plastic surgeons, I was thrilled each time I saw images that showed scars sufficiently faded to the degree they were almost invisible.
But when mine actually began to fade far faster than expected, I found myself hoping they remained visible. And for as long as they did, I chose tops and dresses and bathing suits that let a bit of my scar show, however subtly, on the side.
Even without physical scars, cancer would have left an indelible imprint on my life. I love when my scars, now faint, are visible, even if only to me.
Jordyn Feingold, MD, a psychiatry resident at Mount Sinai and co-author of the recently-published Choose Growth: A Workbook for Transcending Trauma, Fear, and Self-Doubt, notes the value of embracing the both/and that often coexists in these difficult journeys. “For those experiencing a life-changing chronic illness like cancer, the physical changes associated with illness and treatment such as bruising, hair loss, scars can beget literal and existential pain, and those same scars may also serve as beautiful reminders of triumph, healing, and the will to live and thrive.” Feingold continues, “In these scars lies the power of the “AND”; These were the toughest and most meaningful years of my life; the most painful and most grounding; the most demoralizing and the most inspiring.”
Daphne Youree
