Harry Potter!

I have a pretty noticeable scar on my forehead. It's about two inches long and I've had it pretty much ever since I can remember.

As a child, my mother lamented the fact that the doctors had not done a good enough job of patching me up and left me with a permanent disfigurement. Her visible disappointment coupled with her sighs and regretful remarks had quite an impact on young me. I grew up thinking that the scar somehow made me more flawed and disappointing and I actively tried to hide it by growing out my bangs.

But as I grew older, I started to notice the scar less and less and actually liked the way it looked on my face more and more. And peculiarly, as I became less and less self-conscious about my own scar, my mother would talk less and less about it.

Now, the scar doesn't bother me anymore. It's uniquely me and I kind of like that. I kind of like that a lot.