In my childhood the world was my oyster. Each day I was on a journey, running through the bushes, catching frogs by the nearby dam, climbing trees to pick up ripened peaches, playing chef using mud, weeds and rocks,  and my favourite being on an imaginary world tour -where I perform for thousands of people. Yes there was no boring day ever. Until puberty came along and ruined my imagination and filled it with insecurities. 

My body was changing, however one change changed my life for the worst, it stole my youth. While other girl were excited that their breast were growing, mine brought trauma. I remember visiting the doctor because my breast growing at an unusual rate. They were huge, heavy and sore. The doctor ran some tests, he wasn’t sure what was happening as this was his first case of such diagnosis. Although there were no signs of breast cancer, I was convinced that I had it. I remember weeping at night thinking it is the end for me and my life. 

Lucky the results showed it was not breast cancer and that my breast had swollen. I was given medication to reduce the swelling and that medication took its time to getting to work.  At school whispers started to circulate from thin air and I would catch those whispers and they were hurtful to hear. At first they thought I was pregnant, as time went by they thought I had an abortion because my stomach was flat. Even teachers had suspicions, because they couldn’t ask me their burning questions they asked my cousin – she and I were thick as thieves. She would share with me the questions they asked her. 

As time went on I got numb to all that was said about me. Then one breast decided to have a little bust and ooze started to puss. Worst part that happened when it was a few days before we could go to camp. I remember my mind going a thousand miles per second thinking what am I going to do when it is time to take a shower, how am I going to engage in social activities. I felt my confidence ooze out with the puss.

 I was no longer the adventurous and confident girl that I once was. I would avoid groups and conversations because I knew people would ask me what was happening with me and I was not ready to share my trauma as I was still experiencing it. I couldn’t wait for the camp to come to an end. At home I would look at the mirror and be disgusted with my body. At night I would nourish myself with tears so that I can be strong. 

Years passed by and the swelling reduced a little bit. A scar remains on my breast that constantly reminding me of my teen years trauma. I am still in the process of regaining my confidence and being that adventurous child again. Until I reach that point again, I am learning to accept and love that scar.