"Sun kisses!: she says, giving me an odd look.
But they don't feel, or look, like "sun kisses". In my mind, I consider them little fiends that have splattered themselves upon my face, and in places on my arms, without my consent. It doesn't help, either, that we live in Arizona. In fact, that can only make them seem worse!
But I didn't always hate them. My freckles, I mean. When I was younger, I actually prided myself on them. It didn't seem like many other kids my age had freckles, so I was happy. I felt unique. At the time, they did feel like "sun kisses".
But then, recently, they began to feel like the little fiends that I mentioned before. They looked like . . . blemishes. Imperfections. No one else seemed to have them. But I did, and I wasn't so proud of them anymore.
One day, a friend of mine said, "I wish I had her skin. It's so flawless." I considered my own skin. It was flawless, wasn't it? Puberty hadn't wreaked havoc on it; I had no zits, pimples, acne, nothing. It was smooth as porcelain. Maybe not as white, but just as smooth, I thought.
"Isn't mine flawless?" I asked, expecting a yes, a nod of the head.
"Not exactly," she said.
"Why?"
"Well . . . you have freckles."
That's what started me off thinking they were imperfections. Feeling embarrassed, and definitely no longer proud, I Google a gazillion ways to end the spotted devils. "How to get rid of freckles . . ." Most searches came up with complicated methods of diminishing the look of freckles, which I knew my mother would never consent to. Other suggestions were to use concealer, foundation, or other cover-up makeup. I tried foundation, concealer, face powder, tinted moisturizer . . . almost all the cover-ups you can think of! But none of them covered my dark enemies. They were too dark. They weren't the sun-kissed freckles, :sprinkled across her face", like girls in novels, or something equally as ridiculous.
At one point, I did just about succeed. Wearing foundation, concealer, and face powder all at once, my freckles were almost invisible! I had succeeded! They were finally covered up, and I could show my smooth skin off to the world - without the so-called blemishes.
Or, had I succeeded? I looked in the mirror, and considered my almost blemish-less face. I looked different. Too different. I didn't look like the Bekah I knew, and that my friends and family knew and loved. And I didn't like it. "No, you don't like it, silly," I told myself, "because it's not you and you know it. Your freckles are you." I realized that they had, after all, defined and unique-ified me.
I learned two things out of this that have helped me along my journey in life - your features, the ones that you were born and gifted with, are special and yours only. No one has the exact same features as you, and you should appreciate what you have. Second, I learned that makeup is for enhancing your features, not covering them up. I'm more confident than ever having realized this, and you would be too.
