It's me, Annie. Thirty-seven year old , Annie, that is.
I am here from the future to beg you, plead with you, and bargain with you.
No. Do not roll your eyes. I am not kidding.
You see, dear 16 year old self, I just got back from the dermatologist's office. And, let me tell you girl, it was not fun. In fact, it was damn sobering.
First, we have been diagnosed with adult acne, and that itself is hard to swallow. Because in its simplest form it means that a) we are old and b) we have pimples. My skin is no longer the golden hued smooth skin that you have now. It has bumps and creases and when my hormones are raging, my skin downright hurts.
But that is not the worst, my dear.
That's not it.
The worst was when the dermatologist used her blindingly white light to inspect our face. And, when she happened upon our age spot on our cheek, she said, "This," and she stopped to touch the spot. "This HAS to come off."
At first, I was tickled. Remove my age spot, make me look younger? Great!
But then the doc calmly explained, "Annie. It could turn into melanoma. It has gotten bigger and it needs to come off, as a precaution."
I was no longer smiling (or breathing for that matter) . . . and you shouldn't be either.
So that good doctor took off that age spot with her -400 degree concentrated air thingy, and I tried to remember to breathe as I felt every millimeter of my stinging flesh.
And for the next few weeks, I have a big mole-like, charred flesh, Scarlet letter-like reminder that I (like you are now) was once a sun goddess.
And despite my joking, and my self comparison to the mole lady from Uncle Buck, this is not funny, my girl.
|nickypapers.com and google images|
It is scary . . . and not worth it.
And, if it meant that I would never have to have melanoma or any other skin cancer, if it meant that I could tell you and all those young girls out there that baking in the sun could equal cancer, I would and will wear this ugly skin badge loudly and proudly.
But, it doesn't. There are no guarantees.
There is, however, prevention.
So, wear that sunscreen, Annie. Take it from your older, more wrinkly self.
You are worth it.