My story began at the age of 2, the year was 1984. This was the year I survived and was given a second chance at life. I, of course, being 2 years old, have no memory of the accident.
This is what was told to me;
I was sitting in my Dads truck and curiously found a box of matches (which no doubt would have been stowed away in his tool box behind the front seat). Somehow I managed to strike a light, setting my dress on fire. My Dad came to my rescue, he threw me under the tap and I was rushed to hospital.
I suffered third degree burns to 20% of my body, mainly the chin, chest and arms.
I also have a scar on my left leg where the surgeons removed a layer of skin to give me a skin graft for my chin and chest.
It’s now over 30 years later and I’m still here, telling my story.
When Nikki mentioned she was looking to photograph people with imperfections, I enthusiastically raised my hand, as I knew I had heaps of scars from my accident.
I am now a makeup artist and have worked in the cosmetic industry for a couple of decades.
I have seen so much beauty in all shapes and forms. It is a job I absolutely love because I am able to create the beauty I see and watch it being photographed and printed.
As I think about my own photo shoot and prepare myself like I would do for a client, I can’t help but wonder; What will the final print look like? How is she going to make my scars look beautiful?
I know I’m beautiful because I feel beautiful but when I look at my scars I feel pain and a little sad. I don’t feel sad for myself but I feel sad for my parents.
My parents are the ones who spent months by my side in hospital. They sat next to my bed hoping I’d be ok and probably wishing it’d never happened, and no doubt blaming themselves for not watching me more carefully.
What makes that pain go away is the thought of my parents being strong and always being there for me. My Mum and Dad showed me courage and they’d tell me I was beautiful, even though I was covered in bandages for most of my childhood. Not ever did I see them look worried or sad, I only ever saw them look at me like my scars never existed.
My sister, being 6 years older, would always say I was the cutest! Luckily for me I was never bullied at school, so I considered everyone my friend.
A few of my friends have told me that they don’t even notice my scars anymore. It wouldn’t surprise me if people I know reading this have never noticed my scars, or even know the extent of my injuries either.
My burns have left me physically scarred, but my outer body does not represent my inner self.
I consider my heart the same as everyone else’s.
I love being different, it’s what makes me unique.
I am just happy to be alive and I will not let my past define me as a person. I have found love within myself, and that is through acceptance.
Being different or not having the same as the next person shouldn’t ever feel wrong, especially when you accept and love what you already have.
We are all alive and we are all breathing the same air, it’s called living.
Trust and love yourself, no matter what the outer self thinks.
I hope you, the reader, can find your own uniqueness, embrace it and celebrate it.
- Ivy-Marie Jolly