Vanity of a woman
What is our beauty? How does it define us? I often have thought about this as I squander the changes in my aging face and body. Of recent it has occupied much space in my mind as I was suggested to apply this topical pre-cancer/cancer treatment to my face. I was told it would get worse before it got better. So, with much trepidation of modern medical advice (Oh and boy did I fight it. I ran out of homeopathic cures to try!) I started a treatment. My face reddended, got swollen, blistered, and scabbed and yet, this is called healing. Yup, about as yucky as it sounds. I have to say, I truly love the sun and love the warmth penetrating through my soul. The idea something so innate as natural vitamin D being of harm perplexes me. So, in one capacity the sun fuels me at the core, and another it has danger to fry me at the core…
I will still wonder its cause and if it was the sun exposure growing up as a junior tennis player outside everyday. I mean heck, if I was not on the tennis court, I was at the beach tanning my white ankles to even my sock tan! Perhaps this is just the odds of my fair complexion with a good mix of genetics? I will never know the cause of the physical damage, but I do know the cause of the emotional damage. It is about my vanity and my fear of how it defines me. It is about how I was pre-programed by my culture and society of the importance of my looks. To walk into the supermarket and feel eyes more blistered on me than the actual open sores on my face. My blemishes are temporary, but are the scars of my vanity permanent? What is my beauty and how does it define me?
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