pluck

last night i let a hairy mole ruin my night.

yesterday at camp, luke dallied on his chess game turn and todd, being the patient person he is (no idea where he gets that), announced to the entire room that luke has a hairy mole on his back.

luke greeted me with: 'todd has destroyed my life!'

deeply restraining myself from laughter because luke truly believed this, i tried the reasonable consolations. everybody has body insecurities, nobody will remember if you don't make a big deal out of it, we can take the hair out, etc, etc. but nothing helped and luke's anger was contagious. his destroyed life in turn destroyed my night. and todd's. and a few other peoples' too.

hairy moles are like that. you forget it's there until it peeks out of your clothes at the most inopportune time. and then it's the only thing you can see. it embarrasses you. it's itchy. it's ugly. it's got a nasty hair growing out of the middle.

so you pluck that hair out with vigor and forget about it for a while.

then that hair comes back. and it itches. and it's embarrassing. and upsetting. and consuming. you lay on the bed and wail that your life has been destroyed. you're angry about it and you just can't hold it back.

so you pluck that hair out again.

and hairy mole becomes beauty spot.

d: plucking, as needed.
b: i have the best tweezers ever. (really, i do. go ahead, click.)
g: beauty spots make us unique. and uniquely lovable.