Freckled

Growing up I loved my freckles. I loved how they looked. I loved when my mom told me they came from angel kisses. I loved that they made me different.

And then came middle school and high school, and none of the "pretty" girls had freckles. I remember one morning, sophomore year, waiting in the car before school with one of the girls from my church. She was putting on makeup and her skin was perfect! She even had this adorable mole. She even had a perfect life. She had a great group of friends, and a loving boyfriend.

And that's when I realized why I had come to hate my freckles. I didn't have flawless skin, I had marks. Ugly marks that made me feel horrible. I didn't really have friends, and I definitely didn't have a boyfriend. And I KNEW it was because I had freckles. In stores, older women would tell me they loved my freckles and I should appreciate how beautiful they made me look. Didn't they know that none of the "pretty" girls at school had freckles? Didn't they know how that made me feel like an outcast? Didn't they  know how it made me feel ugly?

And then one day, three or four years after I graduated high school, I looked in the mirror and I was grateful for my freckles. I was grateful that I had them, they made me feel beautiful. Not to mention, they are the best camouflage for zits. My skill will never be perfect, and I'm okay with that. I'm proud to have freckles.

photography by Amy Farr

What part of your body have you learned to embrace?