If We Could Talk About Me For a Second,

I have a mole on my back,

Just below my left shoulder blade.

Well, it could be a birth mark.

Because its not raised, I can't smooch it between my fingers like I can the ones on my neck.

Its light brown, like coffee with too much skim milk.

I know from my many trips to the derm that it is in no way cancer.

And I've had it as long as I've been able to reach my neck over the front of my medicine chest.

And its never bothered me before.

Until now.

This transitional time.

I can't stop thinking about it.

I feel like there are twinkling Christmas lights all around it.

It is a perfect circle by the way.

Not fetus shaped like normal back moles.

Its a stamp.

Plop.

A glaring perfect imperfection.

An eye sore.

A heir lip on a middle ton.

So, I just thought I'd tell you.

So that you know.

So its not a surprise.

So we can all eat plenty of frankincense that day.

So we can get our minds out of our bra straps and play nice.

Skin, Toast, Nooks, Crannies.