Scars Not Wrinkles

I lost a lot of weight three times in my lifetime. That is just too much for old skin to tolerate. It's not so bad when you're young, but the older you get that old skin loses it's ability to bounce back.
Wrinkles seemed to happen only to me and not to my mother or my sister.
At one point my best friend and I started calling our skin crepe paper skin. Funny tiny looking little wrinkles, noticeable, but not really bothersome.
Then all of a sudden just a very few years ago boom; major wrinkles on my old flabby arms. I don't consider myself vain, but the sleeves on my shirts seemed to get longer each year.
Once again I found myself looking at them today and just shaking my head. Then I saw "the scar."  The scar I'm referring to was caused by several operations to repair a broken arm cause by a car accident almost forty years ago.
Then there is  the scar where I had a cyst removed when I was eighteen, then the scars from broken glass from the same accident. All those scars on my left arm tell a story of a woman not only with a broken arm, but a never ending fear of riding in a car. I know that's silly, but it is what it is.
Then there is a scar for the bone transplant to repair said arm that is on my hip. The scar for an appendectomy that happened when I had a four and two year at home. That shows how family pulls together to help while mom recovers. My mom and sister, and my husband's family all helped.
You could also see a scar on my face if not for a very talented plastic surgeon whom removed a deadly cancer that had been on its way to my brain to end my life in about six weeks he estimated.
You would see a scar on my leg from a glass yes a glass shampoo bottle that shattered in the shower sixty years ago.
More scars all over my arms, face and back from skin cancer removal by another plastic surgeon.
I have scars from a broken heart, they are there from losing loved ones along the way. Wonderful memories of those people have healed them over, but they remain just the same.
And...I also have a scar on my left thumb  caused by my brother when he stabbed me with a #2 pencil because I just irritated him a little. I also have a U shaped scar on my right hand fourth finger I got in second grade when I accidentally  slammed my desk top on my hand.
So it's like the old Tex Ritter song called the "Deck of Cards." The soldier in the song used the cards like a Bible when he was on the front lines. My story can be told by my scars, not my wrinkles.
Interesting life I've led and seem to continue adding wrinkles. Hopefully there won't be any more scars.
See you soon!

1992 Mom's 80th birthday!