My Scars Don’t Shame Me—They Crown Me

When I was a little girl, all I ever wanted to be was a model.

Not because I craved attention—
but because something deep in me wanted to feel seen. Beautiful. Worthy.

But as I got older, life chipped away at that dream.
Insecure relationships, self-doubt, trauma...
I let it all convince me that I wasn’t enough.

And then came the accident.
Waking up from a coma, I was covered in 250 staples, wrapped in tubes, and surrounded by unfamiliar faces.
My body had been shattered and stitched back together.
When I finally saw the scars… I broke.

One of the very first thoughts I had was,
“Well, so much for ever becoming a model. Who would want to look at this?”

Fast forward five years later—
I was finally in the most healthy, supportive relationship I had ever known.
And one day, I got invited to a casting call.
My gut reaction? “No way. Not me. Not this body.”

But something in me whispered,

“What if the worst they can say is no?”

So I went.

I showed up to that room filled with flawless, airbrushed beauty—feeling like I didn’t belong.
And then they asked us to strip down to our bra and panties.

I was shaking. My scars were visible. My fear was louder than my heartbeat.

But when it came time to walk that runway…
I owned it.

I walked with my chin high, my spine straight, and every single scar on display.

And to my surprise, they didn’t look away.
They clapped. They cheered. They cried.

That moment—owning my story in front of strangers—changed everything.

Since then, my modeling career has taken off.
Not because I’m flawless, but because I’m real.
Because I represent something raw and untouchable: survival.

Now I model not to be seen, but to show others what can be seen.

So if you're hiding your scars—whether they're on your skin or in your heart—
I want you to know:

Your scars are not your shame.
They are your crown.
They mean you survived.
They mean you’re still here.
And they are more beautiful than perfection ever will be.

– Christina