This post is based on a prompt from the Writer's Workshop which can be found here. This week, I chose prompt #5 from the list of prompts suggested.
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I don't know if I was born with it but I remember having it my entire life.
Above my lip on the right side, I have a mole, a supposedly "beauty" mark. It's not particularly big, although some days I think it is, but you'd notice it if you met me for the first time. If I measured it, it's perhaps a little under 1mm in diameter, and slightly raised. So, when I run my finger over it, I can definitely feel it.
In Malay, a mole is referred to as tahi lalat which directly translates to "fly's shit". I kid you not. I suppose knowing that as a young child, I hated the mole that I had. It was definitely not a beauty mark for me. I recall spending my early years trying to peel if off, and sometimes it bled. I stopped, when I realized the scab made it look bigger. It was then that I hoped that when I was older, I'd get it removed. Remove the fly's shit forever from my face.
I'm approaching my 50s now, and I still have the mole on my face. Over the years, I've had a love and hate relationship with it but in my later years, I convinced myself that it's what made me, me. Also, my nephew has a similar beauty mark, so both of us are in a club of our own and I remind him that it's cute and not fly's shit.
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