In Bridge 1 we were asked to write five short memoirs about five different parts of our body.
MaryV Benoit
Seminar 1
Eric Wilson
Bridge 1: Memoirs
Page: 1
- Lip scar/freckles
I was born a redhead with light soft brown freckles across my nose, the tops of my cheeks, beneath my bottom eyelashes and on my lips. Ever since I can remember, each August, I’d get a cold sore on my lip. Everyone would always say “Ew, what is that on your lip?” One day in second grade, I was so fed up with my nasty cold sore, I embarrassingly picked it off. As I scraped at the raw skin, a sharp pain shot throughout my bottom lip. It left a scar. A scar that everyone that has ever kissed me notice and ask about.
- Undercut
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been asked if my hair is natural; and I’ve been told to never ever dye it. I never have colored it but three years ago when I lived in New York for a month, I decided to get an undercut. I was so nervous because this would be a drastic haircut. It was more than a foot long and very thick. I woke up one morning and said, “fuck it.” I confidently walked into the hair salon and next thing I knew I could hear the shaver buzzing through my long red locks. I quickly glanced down at the clumps of hair on the mat on the floor and nervously looked back at myself in the mirror. I touched my head and glided my fingers over the short course stubbles. Half the thickness of my hair is gone, yet I think someday I will shave my whole head.
Page: 2
- Scars on wrist
On my left hand towards the top of my wrist are four little white scars. Three of them kind of make a smiley face. The scars are from two different memorable events involving my sibling. My sibling is transgender and uses third person plural pronouns, they/ them. Four months ago, they stole my phone to talk to men on Grindr. These men were nasty and would say things like “Hey, you horny? I can be your daddy.” I was so upset by these grown men saying these things to my 14 year old sibling. When I tried getting my phone back, my sibling and I got into a rugged fist fight. My sibling shoved me to the ground and scratched my wrist as I was falling down.
The day before I moved out to New York my sibling and I were in the car going to get breakfast at the Waffle House. I was stopped at a red light and was listening to this man clapping at a bus stop. I was so distracted by the constant rhythm of the clapping that I didn’t notice that the light was still red. I stepped on the gas and crashed into a huge truck in front of me. It sounded like an explosion went off. I said to my sibling, “Are you ok? I love you so much and I’m sorry.” Below the smiley face scars from our fight was a new wound from the airbags deploying.
Page: 3
- Lightning bolt tattoo
I always wanted a tattoo but my nervous parents always said that I shouldn’t mess with my body.
When I turned 18 years old I decided to get one because I finally was able to make my own decisions with my body. I wanted a lightning bolt because when my dad was 16, he and his friends got lightning bolt tattoos on their arms, without their parents knowledge. I’d heard that getting a tattoo on the side of your ribs hurts the most. As the funky tattoo artist started the buzzing of the gun punctured my side. It was this feeling of getting a million bee stings in one spot. Two slow minutes of fast burning and it was done. Fresh ink on my own body, thanks to my crazy dad and his friends idea thirty something years ago. Later that cold winter day, I showed my dad. He said, “So cool, MaryV, so cool.”
- Giant gash on my ankle
In the second week of college, as I was shaving my legs with my small cheap razor, an inch of my skin ripped up. Blood mixed with hot water burned down my foot. It kept bleeding into the small silver drain until I covered it with toilet paper and a bandaid. A week later when we’d gotten back from the More Than A Muse afterparty at 2:45am, Elijah said, “you have to go to the ER right now, your ankle is fucked up.” My bright cherry red ankle throbbed in my black and white converse and I was almost not able to walk because it was very swollen. We quickly got a taxi to the ER. The slow nurse and intimidating doctor checked me out and determined I had an infected wound. I got one tetanus shot, two huge pain pills, and a cankle. The doctor said “tetanus lives here” and I said, “I love New York.”
