The most beautiful aspects of life are born from flaws. Love your bodies exactly as they are—they are gifts.

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To the lady on the bus,

I promise it’s not cancerous. That’s amazing that you were a nurse for 40 years, but taking blood pressure in pediatrics does not qualify you to make judgments about my mole on the 405 freeway. My dermatologist gave me the thumbs up, so I’ll take her word for it.

 

To the boy from summer camp,

Up until you mentioned it—it had never occurred to me to get it removed. Thanks for sharing your opinion. At 14, you were too old to get away with saying something like that. I’m glad I got my revenge last year when you walked me home from the bar, and I firmly slammed the door in your face.

 

To my ex-boyfriend,

No, my mole is not big and nasty. I think there’s been some confusion. Nothing on my body is nasty. Fairy dust is sprinkled in my hair, and sunshine shoots out of my fingertips and ass. I’m glad we cleared that up.

 

To my dear friend,

Thank you for reminding me that there is nothing abnormal on my thigh. I was surprised when you laid your hand down, gave me a squeeze and left it there even though your palm was placed firmly on top of it.

 

To my parents,

You are endlessly endearing. Thank you for lovingly assuring me that my mole was a birth mark—my birth mark. You said it was special, and so it was. I have never changed my mind about it since.

 

To the world,

Walt Whitman once said: “If any thing is sacred, the human body is sacred.” I hold this to be true. The bodies that we have been given are temples, and they deserve worship in all their natural beauty. Therefore, world—no, I’m not getting it removed. It is a part of me, and I love it too much.

 

Yours sincerely,

Brittany and her mole.

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Relephant:

How to Love Our Bodies for Real.

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Author: Brittany Ann Bandemer

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina

Photo: Flickr/chiarezza