The first time I ever even acknowledged that I had an enlarged freckle on my cheekbone under my right eye was in my mid-twenties. I was sitting in a make-up chair having all my flaws covered up for my first TV job.
The makeup artist asked, “Do you want me to cover up your beauty mark?”
“What beauty mark? I have a beauty mark!” I replied, kind of excited. She looked confused as she held up a mirror and pointed out the rather large brown spot on my face.
“Oh, that, I shall call her Cindy Crawford. I don’t care, your call.”
She covered it with foundation.
The next person to point out that spot on my face was seven years later when Dermatologist Dr. Joel Sugarman saw me for the first time (and the first time I’d ever seen a Dermatologist. I know, shame on me, but as a PSA for those in the same boat: Going to the Dermatologist does not make you a hypochondriac, it makes you smart).
“When did you notice that mark on your face,” he asked. And my sincere reply: “Well I didn’t start getting vain until my 20s, so I had to have had it my whole life, right?”
“Can you show me some pictures of yourself when you were younger?” he requested. So I pulled out my iPhone and scrolled to some black and white baby pics I had from #throwbackthursday. But no “beauty mark.”
He sent me home and had me go through all my old pictures, and as I rummaged through shoeboxes full of pictures made from old film rolls – the kind you had to wait and get developed to see what it looked like and just hoped the pictures turned out (I’m really aging myself here).
But a small freckle first made a cameo in the scrapbook of my life in my freshman homecoming picture. And I apparently didn’t wear makeup to my homecoming dance either because you could actually see it, about three times smaller than it is now.
I showed Dr. Sugarman the pictures, and next thing I knew I was getting my face numbed for a biopsy. And waiting for the results, as I was walking around looking like Nelly, I swallowed my pride and accepted that should the results come back as Melanoma, that I deserved it. It was my pride that put me in this predicament to begin with.
I could write you all kinds of advice on how to avoid skin cancer in terms of health precautions, but that’s obvious – keep your ass out of the tanning bed! But what women need to avoid in general, is the mentality that being pretty is so important that it’s worth risking your health over. So please be comfortable in your own skin, or you might end up with skin cancer.
So how is it that I could go through life not noticing a prominent marking on my face? … Because about the time the “beauty mark” made a change in size, is when I changed and started spending more time in the mirror.
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