Typically I never…
…would describe myself (nor would others describe me, I don’t think) as a vain person. While I certainly have my girlie moments and love to have cute clothes and good hair and all that, it has never been something that I have spent a lot of time on or invested a lot of thought to. I would say that I “took care” of myself and it stopped there.
Then the last year happened. The last year really showed me that there are some physical attributes that I have that I very strongly associate my identity with. I’m not saying that they’re what I hang my world on but they are important to me and it has really made me stop and think. The first showstopper was when my hair started falling out. I mean falling out. I mean clogging the shower drain, the vacuum brush and all of my car. It seems my thyroid wasn’t working properly. But as my hair was slowly thinning I became so frustrated because everyone except my hairdresser and Gretchen kept saying, “No, I can’t tell. You have lots of hair.” Well people, I usually have lots and lots of hair. It was very disturbing to me and the stress of it probably caused even more hair to fall out. You see, everyone in my family has a lot of hair. My sisters, my mom, my dad. It’s kind of our thing. The good news is now my medicine is working, the thyroid is functioning properly and the hair has stopped falling out. Of course there is the issue now of all that new hair growing back in…..tons and tons of tiny little hairs all over my head that I daily struggle to blend into the rest.
Then the next thing happened. In high school, I never had to wash my face. I didn’t break out. Tim considers it a national holiday when I get a pimple because it’s so rare. It’s not me, it’s genetics. But I have loved having “easy” skin. I’ve loved living for 39 years without the need for foundation. I’ve loved that no matter how heavy I was people always said, “You’ve got very pretty skin.” I didn’t realize I loved this last thing until IT happened.
Blotches. On both cheeks. I tried masks, I tried new cleanser, I didn’t know what to do. Then it hit me: I’m getting older and my skin is showing it. I went to the aesthetician to find out what it was. Clogged pores? Unerupted pimples? Dare I say it? Age spots? She called it Hyperpigmentation. I said, “what?” She said, “age spots.” Right there? On my face?! I thought those were left to hands. But I am armed with a plan now (step one was done yesterday and involved some burning)….a plan that I will compare to what the dermatologist has to say at next week’s appointment. Yes, this is how far my new-found vanity has brought me. I am going to pay, out of pocket, for a dermatologist to tell me how to get rid of these (shhhh) age spots on my cheeks. But hey, I’m desperate, this morning I actually put some foundation on.
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