mea small,
hand-heldmirror.
But,taking
inmyreflection,
I feltsick.
I lookedhorrendous.
Grotesque.
Theburnsmeantmy
facewasthreetimesits
usualsize,mylipsgigantic,
mylefteyeswollenshut.
‘I looklikea monster!’
I sobbedhysterically.
Atfirst,thedoctorspatched
meup,andsentmehome.
Theytoldmeto cleanthe
burnswitha specialsolution.
Backhome,Davidheld
myhandandtoldmethat
it wasgoingto beOK.
AndI triedto bebrave.
‘YousavedMummy’slife,’
I toldMakennah.
ButI avoidedmirrors,
refusedto usemyphone,in
caseI caughta glimpseof
myselfinthescreen.
Cleaningmyburns
wasabsoluteagony.
And,overtime,thepain
simplygotworse.
‘I can’tcarryonlikethis,’
I toldDavid.
ThenI noticedthatthe
skinonmycheek
andeyelidwas
turningblack.
Dying.
Backat
hospital,the
doctorstoldme
I’dneedsurgery.
Theywanted
to cutaway
thedeadskin
andgiveme
a skingraft.
I’dnever
considered
myself
beautiful.
Butthinking
howI usedtoreactionmade
merealise...
I’mstillMummy.
I hadto stophating
myselfandstartbeing
positive– fortheirsake.
ThatMarch,I went
backto work.
‘You’resobrave,
comingback,’colleaguessaid.
I lookedcompletelydifferent,
myeyealmostsealedshut,
skin-graftscarsonmycheek.
ButI hadto moveforward.
Then,onedayweekslater,
I toldDavidthatI wantedto
curlmyhairagain.
‘I don’twantmyinjury
to changewhoI amorstop
medoinganything,’I said
to himdefiantly.
I pickedupthehottongs–
thesameonesthat’dmaimed
me.Nerveszippedthroughme,
butI carefullycurledmyhair,
sectionbysection.
And,when
I wasdone,I felt
asif a smallpart
of myoldself
wasback.
InApril,the
doctors
inserteda
balloon-like
tissue
expanderinto
myleftcheek.
Overfour
months,they
gradually
inflated
the
device
tomoanaboutmy
appearancebeforetheaccident
mademefeelsick.
Now,I reallywasugly.
‘I’mnevergoingto lookthe
same,’I toldDavid.
‘I loveyou,nomatterwhat,
you’llalwaysbebeautifulto
me,’hepromised,huggingme.
Butnothingthatanyone
saidcouldpullmebackfrom
thedespairI felt.
Laterthatmonth,I went
inforsurgery.
Duringthefive-hourop,the
surgeonscutawaythedead,
burnedflesh.
A weeklater,theyusedskin
frommyupperthighto cover
mywounds.
Thesurgerieswerea success.
Butthenewfleshgrewover
myeyesocketto protectit.
I couldonlyseejustthe
tiniestamountwithmyleft
eye,througha littleholein
theskin.
Willmyfacescarethekids?
I worried.
Buttheywereallsostrong- theydidn’tflinchwhen
theysawme.Andtheir
t
MY’
7
stretchmy
cheekandgrownewskin.
Peoplestared,andthekids
werecurious.
‘Whatis it?’Presleyasked.
‘It’ssomethingto helpme
looklikeMummyagain,’I said.
InAugust2018,thesurgeons
replacedmyscarredcheek
withthenewskin.
After,whenI lookedinthe
mirror,I gota happysurprise.
‘I’mstartingto looklike
meagain!’I cried.
Almost...
Now, 18 monthson,I’vehad
sixskingraftsandsurgeryto
openupmyeyelida littlemore.
I knowthatthere’sstill
a longroadahead.
Eachopis agony,andmy
thick,redscarsitchsometimes.
ButI’velearntto acceptmy
faceandbeproudof myscars.
I’veevenstarteda Facebook
groupcalledBeautyWithin
Brittneyto logmyjourney.
I stillsufferfromepilepsy,
andhavehadeightseizures
sincetheaccident.
YetI refuseto liveinfear– it
wasa one-in-a-millionaccident.
NowI wantto inspiremy
kids,andothers,to beconfident.
Lookbeyondscars.
Afterall,truebeauty
isn’tonlyskindeep.SHOCKING
TRUE
LIFE
MewithDavidand
thekidsbefore
theaccidentWith my girls – I
want to inspire
them to be confident