I basically called my mom for help. Except when I say mom, I mean an esthetician.
I owe Cindy Crawford a debt of gratitude.
Had she not been the most popular supermodel in the universe at the precise moment I entered middle school, my sixth- through eighth-grade years probably would have been much worse.
Although I couldn’t avoid the legally sanctioned minimum level of junior-high anguish, my mole--practically a mirror image of Cindy’s--was never a catalyst for bullying. Her beauty mark was like a forcefield of Pepsi and Charlie eau de toilette, protecting me from the threat of mole taunts. In fact, it even scored me a few compliments that usually made reference to her.
It’s not a birthmark. (Re-read that sentence, this time in Arnold Schwarzenegger’s voice. Fun, right? OK, proceed.) My mole didn’t show up until I was eight. Second grade school picture, no mole; third grade school picture, mole. It was tiny and flat at first, but it started rounding and protruding ever so slightly over the next couple of years, much like my boobs (which did not stop rounding and protruding until college).
I was pretty psyched that it was brown. My legendarily vain Grandma Bea balked at her colorless moles, coloring them in with brown eyeliner to make them more glamorous. I even started darkening my mole as a teenager, because it gave me something to do besides squeeze pus out of my chronically infected fourth ear holes while listening to Alanis Morisette. (The ‘90s, you guys!)
I can only imagine the crap I would’ve gotten had I been a 12-year-old in 2002, when Austin Powers in Goldmember came out and the running joke was Number 3’s distracting mole. I was 23 in 2002 and still got a few “mooooooole” comments that year.
But here's something Cindy has never discussed: Hair grows out of moles.
Just like the rest of the skin, moles contain follicles, so hair is pretty damn likely to grow out of them--especially in an area where the obviousness of the hair might justify waxing or buying Nair, like the upper lip.
My mole didn’t grow any hair for the first few years, but now it sprouts two or three annoying little filaments. Middle-school Marci would’ve really appreciated a heads-up from the Queen of Moles that I’d eventually be doing this on the reg:
See how it went in and out of focus a couple times? Even the camera was distracted by my mole.
Do you have a beauty mark somewhere on the lower half of your face? Do you find yourself tweezing it pretty often? Help me stop the stigma!