Life Is hard enough as a college gal, so what if you had to carry your life burden right smack dab on your entire face, not ideal.
Being born facially disfigured presented medical challenges for me that left me being in and out of hospitals for countless operations, but now, as a 19-year-old girl it has presented a whole new set of challenges that are making it difficult for me to navigate
I was born with CMN (Congenital Melanocytic Nevi) which left 75% of my face being covered in a large birthmark in layman’s terms. I have had over 15 operations to remove it, which as a result left significant scarring on my face. CMN is a double-edged sword in the sense that if you have it anywhere else on your body besides your face, your chances of suffering health complications are higher than if you have it on your face. But I’m alive and healthy, right? So what’s the big whoop exactly? Well, the big whoop is I can’t even visualize myself as a sexually attractive being, let alone imagine myself with someone else.
Due to my facial differences I often find myself highlighting my other physical assets that I “think” people will find attractive, I often have to ask myself if I am attempting to sexualize myself through clothing and makeup because I genuinely enjoy it or because I am trying to overcompensate in other areas because I am secretly hoping people will not notice such a small part of me that somehow takes up such a big part of my existence.
Growing up with my whole life story on my face made me realize how quickly people judge and make assumptions. But even worse, what I haven’t realized is that I am my own biggest critic. I immediately dismiss any potential male caller because I can’t imagine myself in a romantic relationship involving genuine love. Do I not think I’m pretty enough, good enough, or enough at all? Society has taught me that looks are paramount and overshadow everything else. So why would someone look at my face and fall in love? This is my Achilles’ heel. I crave love so badly, but I can’t let anyone love me out of fear. Fear that it might be reciprocated and I’ll have to reveal my scars—both inside and out. Fear that one day I’ll have to remove my makeup in front of them and expose my beautiful burden, which I’m trying to love more and more every day, though it’s difficult. Though I am an adult now and have the capacity to handle situations where people point, stare, and ask intrusive questions—burn victim? Car crash? Baseball to the eye? Or my personal favorite, did you get eaten by an alligator?—it still hurts. At times, it feels like I will always be the little girl wondering why no one wanted to play with me. However, I’m entering a new era where I am actively trying to embrace my unique beauty because scars or no scars, I owe it to myself to give myself a real shot at life that doesn’t involve self-pity, degradation, or self-sabotage.
I know one day I will fall in love, but as in the present moment everything seems so far and away and out of reach. It’s hard when everyone reassures you that you will find your prince charming and that “ you’re a gorgeous girl” as if that changes anything about what I see in the mirror every day. It’s a constant battle waking up every day with my face, but I want to love her so badly and I know I will.