To the cruel kids who made fun of me because of the birthmark on my neck – vanity thy name is bully. You were so obsessed with MY appearance that you never realized you were, in fact, the ugly ones. My birthmark is gone and so are you. Finally, after 45 years, you no longer have any sway over my self-esteem. I am done with you!
I was born 52 years ago with what is technically called a congenital melanocytic nevus on the left side of my neck near my jawline. In common terms, it’s called a mole or a birthmark. In mean kid terms, it’s called a “wart”, a “thing” or even “that”, as in “what is that on your neck?” I hate to admit that my self-confidence for the past half century has been wrapped up in a slow growing raised mark the size of a pencil eraser but here we are, and it’s all thanks to the kids (mostly boys) who made fun of me decades ago. No matter how I tried to hide it – with my hair, a scarf or a high collared shirt – there was always some asshole who had something to say about it. It wasn’t even as if it was the only blemish I ever had – I’m covered with moles and freckles and joke about having to pack a lunch for my yearly dermatological physicals. It was just the ugliest and most obvious one.
Picking on people because of how they look is, of course, nothing new in human nature, and this concept was driven home when I studied the Salem witch trials in high school. It was highly unsettling to learn that had I lived back then, I’d have been burned at the stake or drowned as a witch simply because I had a mark on my neck but between that and having been born under a full moon, I’d have been doomed. At least by the time I was a teenager most of the snide remarks and bullying stopped, but by then, the damage was more than done. I couldn’t look in the mirror without seeing it and I felt as thought it was all anyone saw when they looked at me.
I’ve been going to a dermatologist since my 30s to treat my rosacea and could have had it removed at any time, so why did I wait until October 16, 2026 to have a shave biopsy done? I don’t know really, maybe I was just afraid of the procedure, or maybe I was afraid that letting go of my self esteem issues wouldn’t feel as good as I had hoped. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t until a couple of months ago that I finally decided to take the plunge and have it removed. I met a neighbor who was out with her toddler granddaughter who point blank asked her “Nana, what’s that on her neck?” The irony was she had a congenital nevus on the back of her hand, but she was young enough that she hadn’t had time to be bullied about it. Her grandmother responded “It’s her cutie mark, just like yours,” but all the embarrassment from my youth flooded back and I made up my mind. At my next dermatology appointment I’d have it removed along with another less obvious mark that interfered with necklaces.
Honestly, I wish I’d had my revenge on my bullies years ago. It just wasn’t the big deal I had made it out to be. After a quick Novocain injection, the doctor shaved it off and bandaged me up. I briefly saw what was left of my shame in a plastic specimen bottle as the nurse preserved it for a biopsy – it was rather strange to think that my lifelong tormentor was now a piece of medical waste. There was no need for an incision or stitches like there would have been had I gone to a plastic surgeon. Just bandaids for a few days until it scabbed over and a little Vaseline to keep the skin from drying out. A few months from now there will be little, if any, evidence that it ever existed. It’s strange now (in a good way) to look in the mirror and not see it staring back at me but it’s liberating to finally be free of my bullies. After decades of feeling like an ugly duckling, I can now embrace who I am without feeling self-conscious or ashamed.
It’s about time.
