I survived my school years by building my entire personality around not being seen, and I got good at it.
Really good.
For a long time, I thought the birthmark was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. The root of every insecurity, every moment of self-doubt.
If I could just get rid of it, I thought, everything else would fall into place. I wouldn’t have to hide anymore.
I could just be me.
By my 20s, I had a savings account with one purpose: cosmetic surgery to remove my birthmark.
I’d been working as a marketing coordinator since graduating college, saving every extra dollar.
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