But... I know that I have an upper lip mole.
When I was younger I thought that made me pretty cool.
My mom would tell me stories of old fashioned ladies that would draw little "Beauty Marks" on their face because they weren't beautiful enough to ACTUALLY have one like I did.
I knew it. I is. Hot shiz.
|Beauty mark. Totally fake. Not hot.|
|My beauty mark. Marking my beauty.|
Fast forward a few couple of years.
"Hey Katie. You forgot to pluck your mole hairs."
"Katie's never been kissed. All the guys are afraid of her mole. And the mole whiskers."
"Katie your mole is so big. You can't tell the difference between mole and lip."
"My life sucks. But at least I don't have a mole like Katie's."
"Don't tell a soul. But I tried to kiss Katie last night and the whiskers stabbed my face. Took an hour to stop the bleeding."
"First thing I notice in a girl is her eyes. First thing I notice in Katie is her mole. And actually, that's the only thing I notice about Katie."
"Hey Katie you got some chocolate on your face. Oh. Wait. Nevermind."
So contrary to what my mom led me to believe, beauty marks are just really great to make fun of. And a really great way to lower self esteem.
"Please. With that mole? She was begging for lower self esteem."