Monday, July 22, 2013

A Shout-Out to Those Who Dance Knowing That Everyone’s Watching and Couldn’t Care Less

When I’ve skimmed through fluff interviews of high- or low-profile (female) personalities, one recurring question has tended to be some variation of: “Which aspect of your body are you dying to change?” My own answer would entail making the raised mole that tauntingly sits near the right side of my neck cleanly disappear.

This weekend, I bought what I thought was a dazzling maxi skirt. It turned out to be a dazzling maxi dress. A strapless one. No matter how hot it gets, I won’t wear a strapless top without a cardigan cover-up in public because of this mole. Since it’s in no danger of becoming cancerous, a dermatologist once conveyed, the removal would be considered a cosmetic procedure, which isn’t supported by insurance. A risky cosmetic procedure on account of this mole’s location. I’d likely get a scar in its place which could be itchy and more unsightly than the original nuisance itself.

There’s no chance of my dropping a dime for a new scar. I know how to get nasty permanent scars for free.

I have regular contact with a young-ish seasoned professional who went for weeks, possibly months, with a missing front tooth. The kind of missing front tooth an elementary-schooler would flash. She carried herself as vibrantly as she always had, quick with the same wide, open-mouthed grin, not minding the gap. If she were hit up with the “Which external part of you do you despise?” query, I have a feeling her response would hover along the lines of, “What do you mean?” Which is how I might reply when I grow up. 


  1. I greatly admire your friend who continued flashing a cheerful smile, even while her front tooth was missing. I don't think that I will ever grow up. There will always be something about my body that will cause me discomfort. Lately it's been my sagging underarms. Nowadays I'm very careful to buy only blouses or tops with longer sleeves.

  2. As a teenager and young twenty I was very self-conscious. I was skinny and skinnyn blokes were definitely not the 'in thing' in those days. I had lost my left knee cap in a motor bike accident so never wore shorts. I wore glasses. I would have spent ten minutes on that question trying to narrow down the short-list.
    I think I was about thirty when I 'grew up' and since then I haven't cared less what people thought. It is exceptionally liberating.

  3. Yes, yes, yes. Age, while it's something we generally don't look forward to, is a great liberator. When you reach the magic year (different for different people) where you realize you are the only one obsessing over your imagined faults, it's like "WHEEEEEEE!" Another interesting discovery is when you find out that models and "perfect" people are more obsessed and judgmental and unhappy with themselves than almost anyone else. Almost makes you feel bad for them. Almost.