Being a model - A Story @

Story coming soon.

In the meantime, give yourself space to be your whole self. Space to breath, eat and rest.

DEMURE @carolemeyer @beautyswholehealth

Being a Model

Looking back, what I miss most is my childhood. Yes, I had times when I could run and play in a wooded area near where we lived to make mud pies, craft little forts, build a small dam using rocks to capture the stream of rainfall running down to meet me, and be in a peaceful serene comfort of nature. When the pollywogs aka budding frogs where in the drain ditch I would go by often to watch them grow and mature until they leap frogged away into the wet grass filled mosh pit. Or, going into the large field to find yellow and red racer snakes to put in a jar and crossing a busy street that had no cross walk to a field full of black berries bushes only to find myself eating the greenest of green berries before they had a chance to ripen. Maybe, the super tart taste that made my mouth pucker was a reminder that life is not always sweet. The greener the harder they were to bite into but something about them was divine.

You can see in the lower right corner photo above that I have a rather moderate abrasion, but that didn't compare to the injury to my left knee cap. Yes, I was a bit of a tom-boy and slightly fearless. I took it upon myself to get on a bike that was too big for me as the neighborhood baby sitter was rarely present. I was only accustomed to a bike that had the petals as breaks. You would reverse petal and the break would engage the stop. As was always challenging myself to go to the next level, I grabbed a bike not in use and knowing I was on a very steep hill, but heck I had gone down a steep snow filled hill on a sled what could possible go wrong.

I didn't have to peddle much since the bike propelled down the hill on its own. About half way down I tried using the brake petal but that was not a thing with thing bike. I quickly noticed the handle bars had an extra handle on each side. Oops, my hands were to small to grasp the extra handle and the tips of my fingers weren't strong enough to clench the bar and engage the break. Holy crap, I was careening at a rapid pace toward a side street and a dead end road that had a barricade protecting drivers from going into my beloved forest area. I had only one choice left and that was to take a left turn and avoid going across a street and into the large road barrier with bright yellow and red paint. I couldn't slow down not even with my feet, I was going to fast. Scared and brave all at the same time. I came in as close as I could to the curb so I would have a chance to avoid an oncoming car. Little did I know until I was on the top of it was a light dusting of gravel. The kind of gravel the kind of gravel with sharp pointed edges. It must have been left over from as traction from the winter snow that year. I could have road out the speed on the flat surface to get to a full stop, but instead I cornered the turn and wiped out in the fine gravel. Crap that hurts. The abrasions were deep and blood was oozing out. The neighborhood kids were yelling for the baby sitter. As I slowly walked up the steep hill I realized then what I should have know before that this hill was really a monster. To make matters worse the baby sitter got a big pot of hot water and as I watched the other kids playing out the window of the living room the sitter stuck my gravel filled left knee in the pot of hot water. I didn't cry out loud but I was screaming inside. I don't really remember much after that until I was standing in front of my parents at home just outside their bedroom as they looked at my knee and arm. I believe the consensus was it looked clean and clearly cauterized from the hot water that I didn't need to go to the doctor. My parents weren't much into Band-Aids, they were more of the let it get air and scab over, which it did.