The Skin I'm In

My ancestry is English, Scottish, Irish, Dutch, Native American (Cherokee) and possibly also German. That’s a whole lotta Northern European going on there, isn't it? Despite the American Indian the recessive genes won over, by sheer numbers most likely, and I am a natural blonde with fair skin. My hair has turned a darker in recent years, but I have a great hairdresser who can whip up some natural, sun-kissed highlights. But I digress…

Due to this ancestry, (or not; Who knows where they come from?) I have moles. Most of them are light, and simply look like freckles. Then there are a few scattered about which are dark, raised, nasty-looking things that catch on my clothes and just look, well, nasty! Of particular ugliness were one on my upper back, and the ginormous monster on the front of one shoulder. More than once have I caught some article of clothing or gotten a hair wrapped around that thing and it bled…ouch! Since it is now finally summer in the Rose City and therefore tank top season, there they were for all the world to see. I felt so self-conscious about those two ugly moles, I wasn’t comfortable in a tank top if I was going to be around other people. I would only wear clothing that revealed the moles unless I was home alone. I have some cute, dressy tank tops that would look good with skirts, if only I could wear them unselfconsciously. Which I couldn’t. I thought: "Something must be done!", and so in the interest of making my wardrobe functional (I am a practical girl, you know...) I made an appointment with a dermatologist, which was today.

I asked her with a sort of "Out, damn spot!" fervor, albeit without the profanity, to please, oh please remove the two ugly bastards today. Despite this being my first appointment, and therefore only the typical 15 minute allotment, she agreed they should go and so they're gone! I'm so happy they're gone!

They're running some quick tests on the two they removed as a routine. I also had a mole check which revealed two or three moles they want to keep an eye on. This involved taking a picture of each with a little measuring strip, and I'll have to come back in 6 months to see if they’ve changed. I’m not worried about it, although it is hard not to have a kernel in the back of your mind of what if that weird, misshapen or multi-colored mole is something scary? It’s probably not, like I said, I am a freckly person.

I know this seems like a terribly vain topic, I admit that. I will also say that, if you could see the big ugly moles, and see just how much they stuck up, how much they pulled the eye to them as soon as you saw me, then you would know how conscious of them I felt. Those suckers were ugly!
I am proud of some of my body’s marks: I have a mole on my hip that I’ve had since childhood that I love. It doesn’t stick up and get caught on things, but it’s big and round and rather cute. I have stretch marks from having a child, and even though I won’t look the same in a bikini, nor tan the same again as before I had a child, I don’t mind those marks at all. They signify something special. The moles, on the other hand, didn’t signify much of anything at all. Those that were removed were eyesores on the canvas that is my skin.

Good riddance to you, I say. Hello, pretty tank tops, not to mention to the unselfconscious wearing of you pretty little numbers!