I was always told that when one ages, they come into their own and start to feel much more confident and comfortable in their own skin. Wouldn’t that be nice.
My skin didn’t seem to get the message. I recently went to the dermatologist for a regular check up on some moles (nothing to speak of, just precautionary) when I showed her a couple of spots on my face that weren’t there before. Melanoma runs in my family, so I am particularly cautious about any new mark that has shown up. So I showed her my areas of concern and got the following response:
“Oh those? Nothing to worry about there. Those are just your typical age spots”.
AGE SPOTS? WTF! HOW AM I GETTING AGE SPOTS WHEN I STILL HAVE SKIN THAT LOOKS LIKE A TEENAGE KID DECIDED TO SMEAR FRENCH FRY OIL ALL OVER IT? YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE PIMPLES AND AGE SPOTS AT THE SAME FRIGGIN’ TIME!
I left the office feeling like this.
It’s incomprehensible that my body isn’t getting the message that I’m no longer a teenager, and too am still too damn young to be a Golden Girl (though if I have to get old, I hope my life is like theirs – where’s the cheesecake?). Half of my skin still wants to be a teenager, and the other half thinks I’m an old fart. Ironically enough, I never had any acne as a teenager. I guess I’m a late bloomer. Awesome.
My face is at war, and I’m honestly not sure which army I’d like to win. I might have to drop a few nuclear weapons onto my face and start from scratch.