You never realize that you're really vain until you're sitting in a dermatologist's examination room. Under the glare of the bright lights and large mirrors that pronounce each pore, it is then that you really begin to scrutinize every flaw, every mark, every imperfection in obsessive detail. Somehow, sitting in that sterile room causes a person to notice things that they never seemed to have gave much thought to.

I've only begun in recent months started going to see a dermatologist. Prior to that, all skin flaws were left...flawed and somehow shrugged off because that's what we normally do in our youth. But as you get older, there's this miraculously evil gene that somehow gets turned "on" and all sorts of weird things start happening to one's body. Where did that smooth, invisible pored skin go? And worse yet, where are all these other things coming from? One can't help but take notice of them.

So the doctor enters the room and this is the first time seeing this particular doctor at this medical office - but I think he's going to be the best one since the office is named after him. :P

"Good morning Dr. X, this is my first time seeing you but I've been here before to see other doctors."

He glances at my chart and looks at me and says, "ni hao?"

"........."

Please, someone tell me why oh why do people assume you know how to speak a second language just because your name isn't Smith and that your skin is not quite as white as theirs? Is it because I'm wearing cutoffs that are ragged at the knees still wet and dripping with rice paddy water? Or perhaps is it because of the large conical shaped hat draped down my back still hanging at my neck after a long morning of field work with the oxens? No, it's probably the stink of the cloths wrapping my bound feet that must have gotten his attention. And then the doctor proceeds to ask me, "where are you from?" Must I be from somewhere? Can't I be from *here*??

Anyway...

I began telling him about the funny growths on my face and this one particular one on my arm. I figured, if it's skin cancer, I might as well get it caught early. Naturally, the doctor then informs me that "my people" have a very low percentage of skin cancer and that what I have most likely are not pre-cancerous/cancerous. Sure that's great news to me but...."my people"? Come again? Knowing all those years spent in the sun doesn't quite bolster my confidence but at least I'm appeased somewhat when he does tell me that "my people" doesn't get skin cancer very often. And that what I have are just skin growths due to....aging.

*sigh*

Aging.

As I'm sitting there with a mirror in hand pointing out the things that I came in to see him for, my hands somehow magically begin to start pointing at all these other things on my face, neck, chin, and so on as my mouth somehow weaves these questions that all begins with "what is this thing over here?" It's like I have no control over how my mouth or hands are working -- they seem to want to point out every single little tragedy on the surface of my body.

In a moment of clarity, I snapped out of it and looked at the nurse in the room and said "this is nothing compared to what alot of other people have huh?" She looks at me gravely, "this is nothing compared what I've seen on most other people that come here."

Where oh where did I get lost in this whole maze of beauty aspiration? My skin has never been perfect and I've never asked more from it than what it can give me but why at 30+ am I noticing all these things that used to never be there? And how come it bothers the fuck out of me that they are there? Shouldn't I just be happy to have what I have?

I lapse between moments of clarity and moments of vanity once the doctor informs me that what I have on my face is a "seborrheic keratoses" - which I guess in layman's term is skin growth that is non-cancerous but doesn't look all that great either, especially if it's on my face near my eye - and that it can be removed [insert moment of vanity] but that it's NOT COVERED BY INSURANCE [insert moment of clarity]. I've had this growth near my eye for 8 years now and it's grown to the size of a small ladybug but luckily for me, it's flesh toned and not quite noticeable when I have makeup on. A couple friends verified later on that night that they never even noticed a thing on my face before (i have to pay them under the table later). But I went ahead and got it removed as well as one on my right bicep area. The doctor used a process called Cryosurgery, also known as freezing with liquid nitrogen. The apparatus in his hand looked like a cylinder of compressed air to clean out my motherboard, but after several long zaps to my face, it began burning and now they look like big water blisters. They ought to dry up and fall off in a few weeks.

A few weeks???

Once I was on a roll with this whole sense of vanity, there was no stopping me now. The doctor checked out this other thing on my face under my other eye - a skin tag he said. I know about skin tags because I have a lot of them on my neck. It seems that a lot of Asians get them due to genetics and aging (lucky me). They are also non-cancerous but I really hate them because they are these little bits of skin that grow like the size of pin pricks and no one I know at my age has them but me! Again, why can't I be complacent and live with them since I've had them for a long time now? Because all I've seen my whole life on tv, magazines, movies, people are smooth, long necks - unmarked, unflecked, unaltered by time. In one swift decision, I want to be like them too.

So begins the journey of my vanity. Sometimes, there are just some things that can't be explained as to why you need to do a certain thing. The only consolation is that I've waited long enough to get rid of some of these unsightly things and I'm happy about it. I suppose that's all that matters really.

Except right now, I look like raw meat and will scare away anyone in public.

I'm out.