09-27-17 I have a dent in my leg…

I don’t know if I have ever told this story, so forgive me if it is a repeat…

We as women are very critical of our bodies. Never mind that they have done some pretty incredible things… ahem… growing children, and in my case, having three c-sections. Sometimes it is hard to see past the train wreck that is my stomach now, and see that our bodies are really quite amazing. For instance, the other day I looked in the mirror and noticed something incredible. Except for a very small line on the bottom of my belly button, the scars from my ectopic surgery are pretty much gone. I don’t even see them. It took less than a year for them to disappear! I find that amazing, considering I carry many other scars and imperfections elsewhere that have never disappeared.

This evening I was looking down at my leg and noticed my dent. No one else would ever see it, but I know it’s there. In the summer of 2001 I was taking a film class that required us to shoot on color film with sync sound. It was aptly named ‘Color Sync.’ This was back in the days when film students still shot on film, and some even edited on Steinbecks. The group I was in consisted of four people- me, my roommate, an eccentric guy from England, and rich kid from the Upper West Side. The rich kid decided to do his project in the Hamptons. His parents had a house out there and they rubbed shoulders with some of the elites. He gathered a good sized crew and secured permission to shoot at the house of a famous fashion photographer (whom I had never heard of). The house was as strange as the man who owned it. None of the bathrooms or bedrooms had doors, and I couldn’t quite see past that. We spent several days on location and in the evenings we would got back to his parents’ more humble house. (I say humble, because it was much smaller, but still pretty expensive.) One evening we decided to go out for ice cream so we headed to the local ice cream shop. We were tired from a long day of shooting and we were excited for the chance to unwind. I was in the middle of backseat with my roommate on one side and the crazy Brit on the other. When we got there they both exited their doors and since the crazy Brit’s side was closer to the ice cream store, I scooted that way to get out.

Well, he thought I was going out the other door and slammed his car door VERY hard just as I had put my leg on the ground. The shooting pain ran up my leg and I could barely walk it hurt so bad! A few of the guys on the crew helped me into the ice cream shop and I noticed that there was a dent on my leg where the door had hit. By the next day the bruise was amazing and the spot hurt for weeks. Being 21 and invincible, I figured not to much damage was done, and never had it checked out, but much to my surprise, the dent never went away. It’s still there.

Whenever I see it I’m reminded of that crazy summer of New York adventures- illegally shooting in an empty apartment, dumpster diving for film props, building a faux elevator for a naked man in a Mickey costume head (thankfully I missed the actually shooting for that one!), road tripping, late nights in editing rooms, synching our dailies (lining the film up with the corresponding audio), and navigating dolly track through the subway so we wouldn’t have to walk it 20 blocks. It was the last carefree summer before adulthood set in, so when I look at my dent I can’t help but smile. We had our adventures and they were fun!

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