I was in a big crowded city. It had been two months of tirelessly working on a dream project. I had forgotten myself while working on something we had curated together (me and the was-my-love). I was the architect of the dream and I wanted nothing but the best to come out of it. 

One morning I woke up and saw a black spot on the right corner of my upper lip. It looked cute. I assumed it to be a ‘Til’ or a ‘Beauty Spot,’ resembled a little like Madhuri Dixit’s. The same day I saw another black spot on my neck. That looked like one giant mole, something that was probably a blackhead at the wrong place. 

Days went by, and months passed by. I treated the Til on my lip with utmost pride. And tried squeezing the blackhead on my neck, but it did not go. It stayed there all the time. 

When the pandemic happened, and I stayed home, I learned a lot of things. I saw the real in illusions and truth in delusions. One such assumption was burst open by a hairstylist friend of mine. She had come to meet Zoey and me. Despite the social distancing, her beautician’s eyes found the blackhead instantly. 

‘That’s a huge ass blackhead that has to get out,’ she said. I knew I had a big ass blackhead but what surprised me was that she pointed towards my upper lip. 

‘That’s a Til, not a blackhead,’ I defended my beauty spot that I was beginning to fall in love with. It looked good on my face. Instead, it made my face look good.

‘You are teaching me skin?’, I guess I offended her. She continued explaining, ‘That blackhead could damage your face and skin; get it removed as soon as possible.’

I was devastated. The one mole that came to me from nowhere was actually bad for my skin. I thought I looked more beautiful because of it, but it was damaging me even further. 

‘I have two of such big blackheads then,’ I said annoyingly while showing her the second one on my neck. 

‘Babes, now that’s a Til,’ she smirked and put her palm on her forehead in utter disbelief. She was stunned that I could not differ from a Til and a blackhead. 

‘The one you hid from everyone is your beauty spot, and the one you were proud of is damaged goods,’ she reiterated. When thinking of it, I realized this isn’t the first time I assumed a blackhead to be a beauty spot. In so many instances, I have chosen things and people believing they are suitable for me. And often, I have hidden or ignored the true gems. 

Is this a pattern that is so obvious in a thing as small as this? 

I am relatively shallow for someone who calls herself a passionate soul when it comes to falling in love even. No wonder I am broken. I fell for a blackhead, and I have no clue if I ever came across any Til!

A few days later, I removed the blackhead permanently from my life, both figuratively and literally. Now I am hoping it doesn’t come back. Meanwhile, I am again confused if the new marks are beauty spots or not?

Image from Google

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