Battle Scars

I recently read an article on a woman politician speaking of having three war stories. She states in her interview that war stories are the stories, which define you. She states that if you have three war stories, you’re on a great path. If you don’t quite have three, you have more living to do. War stories, or at least her definition of them are when you stand up to a bully, or make a bold statement.

I don’t have three war stories yet, but I do have battle scars. My definition of battle scars consists of the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of the war. The war I fought most recently was the war of the fat ass. Yes, it sounds obscene, and the scene was exactly that.

I was in line at my campus coffee shop trying to grab a cup before running to my next class. The two boys in front of me got to the counter and apologized to the barista for not being able to order quickly. “Sorry, that fat ass wouldn’t get out of my way!” One of the boys exclaimed. The barista’s mouth dropped, she was stunned, frozen by the comment. I tapped the boy’s shoulder and asked him to repeat what he had said, just to make certain I heard it properly. He said the comment again, and his buddy laughed this time. As many of you know, I am not wasting away by any means, so I was especially taken aback by his comment. I proceeded into war with my weapon mouth locked and loaded, “I would watch what you say about her fat ass, because one day you could be working for it. One day you might need to kiss that fat ass to get a promotion. One day you might have fat ass kids, and love them dearly, and one day you yourself might be a fat ass.” I continued with, “If you have any sense of self-respect and dignity you will apologize right now for your actions!” His mouth had dropped to the floor, and if it could have dropped any farther it would have. Everyone in the café was clapping, the boy then apologized to the barista, everyone in the café, and the girl he had insulted. I admit, it probably was not the best way to handle the situation, or the classiest, but I had to do something.

The good battle scars I took away from this are to continue to stand up for what’s right, enjoy applause life sometimes brings, and be happy with yourself as a person. If I were not content with my own body image, I never would have been able to stand up for the girl. The bad battle scars I took away from this were using profanity in public (not the best thing to come out of a ladies mouth), and the pain I could relate to in the girl’s eyes. The ugly battle scar was the comment I will forever keep in my memory, along with the laughter.

            So maybe I have one war story, but I am enjoying the battle scars most. I feel like they are more important than the actual war. Once the war is over, it’s over, but the scars you take away you’ll keep for life.