Freckles

As far back as I can recall, I have always been able to look in the mirror and see a spattering of freckles. They didn't just dot hesitantly across my nose and cheeks, but seemed to cascade down from my hairline to the tips of my toes. Freckles were almost like my family's crest, each relative having one printed on them like a coat of arms.

Until recently, I never saw them in a negative or positive light; they just existed. However, after watching numerous people splatter painting their faces in freckles, I began to really think about mine. Did I really like them? Or did I just accept them?

I have always been an active member of the alabaster club. The closest thing I know about a tan is that I will never have one. So many times I would find myself craving to just go outside one time and not have to worry about being in direct or indirect sunlight for longer than thirty minutes without sunscreen. I remember coming home from softball games and track meets only to find pinkish skin and darker freckles with the occasional new one sprouting into place.

As of late, after seeing all these YouTube gurus "experiencing" freckles, did I only begin to resent mine. I began to notice the random freckle that fell between my Cupid's bow, and its sister falling on my bottom lip. I suddenly became hyper aware of the almost sleeve-like look the freckles created on my shoulders and how in-between my shoulder blades, there appeared to be a barrier of stark white skin. I started to gaze down at my legs and saw that when cold, my rusty brown freckles would turn a garish light purple.

When I would take off my makeup at the end of the day, I would begin thinking about how it would be to wipe away the freckles as well. I didn't have the "luxury" of whether or not I had them. Doesn't seem like such a big deal, right? The problem is, with a society that's constantly changing what's cute and what's not, I knew that it would only be a matter of time before the want of freckles would disappear and the need for either snow white skin or a perfectly bronzed complexion would return.

Then, as I started to fall asleep one night, I recalled a time in which my father was splayed across the couch as we were watching Gwyneth Paltrow strut across the screen in Iron Man. Out of nowhere, he announced, "People with freckles are beautiful," and gazed around the living room at my mother, sister and I- every one of us possessing our own pattern of freckles.

Remembering that, I was able to sleep a little easier. Whenever I put on my makeup in the morning, I didn't think about how the freckles trend would fade. Instead, I opted to think about how people were actually attempting to look a little like me. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right?

Maybe tomorrow I will wake up and find out that freckles are seen as a blemish on one's face again, but until that day comes and even when that day passes, all I'll have to remember is that every freckle is a star in my own personal constellation. Every dot on my skin reflects a memory, whether that be weeding the flower beds with my mother, playing in the sprinklers at my grandmother's, or fielding grounders in softball practice. These freckles that grace my skin are a representation of the good times at theme parks and the bad times sitting on the sideline with crutches.

Unlike my hair, clothes, and eye color, I have found that my freckles are the ultimate representation as to who I am, each of them just as different as the other. Sure, people can paint freckles on in different shades, sizes, and shapes, but in the end, they are all repeating the same pattern. It's not the having of freckles that makes someone unique, it's the person who wears them as a badge of honor who does.

Love,

Heldie

#freckles #youtube #selfesteem #image #family