Cutting out the body (asymmetry)

When I was a child. probably between 5 and 8 years old, I became hyper-aware of the inside of my knees and a mole besides my belly button.

I was convinced the mole shouldn't be there, and that it had to be removed.

One day, I got it into my head that it could be cut out just like how I use a nail scissors to cut my toenails or (satisfyingly) cut the rubber faces off the buttons of the tv remote control. My mom was NOT a fan of the latter. When I defaced the remote I felt satisfaction, it felt soothing to carve the pliable material and yield a visible result. Annnnd THAT awful phrasing makes me sound a bit psychotic, but I was a kid and kids are quite good at being adorable lovable monsters without retaining that in their adulthood (I hope this means YOU too!).

Back to the topic, after a bath one day I went to the cabinet with the nail scissors, pulled it out, and tried to get myself comfy and steady. I placed the scissors open, tips curved upwards and pointing towards my legs, with the blades a small way down from the top of the mole. And then I gingerly started to close the handles.

Yes, there was pain. But I wanted that asymmetry out of my body. It hurt to cut off more layers the way I had tried, so I started digging out the brown bits of myself from the translucent-and-red wet wound. I never finished. I quit. I decided it wasn't going to be easy or satisfying enough to continue. The mole still looks like a mole today, but it is flatter, the borders are a bit fractal, and the edge appear set in the remains of scar tissue. Basically, it is invisible damage.

I basically forgot about it, every now and then I remember. It wasn't particularly scarring or scary. It was just one project that I didn't complete.

Several years later (I think) I was in bed trying to have the body-symmetry conversation with myself. My mother had recently explained to me that almost no human is perfectly symmetrical, and I understood how that was true. I tried to reconcile this need for symmetry and my desire to believe my body was perfect and symmetrical (WHICH IT IN NO WAY IS) by ignoring (or cutting that one time) the parts that didn't fit.

While considering and mildly squirming my feet, I looked down and saw my nipples. I suddenly became hyper-aware of their asymmetry. "Whelp," I thought (which is a lie, I learned "whelp" many years later), "that belief isn't going to work." I knew I couldn't cut off my nipples. They are WAY too sensitive and actually belong, unlike moles. I had to accept my Asymmetry and had to find ways to avoid anxiety about it while appreciating my other good features.


Sometimes I still want to remove skin flaws and pick. Sometimes. Only if it lacks nerves. And not counting zits. 

Saying final goodbyes to pets

In the last ten years, half the time when I left my mother's place and saw the dogs staring at me, I would give what may be my final goodbyes and wondered if I would ever see them again. I am aware of mortality. Especially after one 3-5 year period of my life as a teenager in which, whenever I got back from vacation abroad, I would learn a pet or friend had died.

If it works for eggs.

Through my childhood and teenage years I had a bunk-bed to myself. I would sleep on the top bunk and use the bottom for storage, occasionally switching which bed had which purpose. The storage bunk had an egg-shell type of mattress topper, and I would store my souvenirs, knick-knacks, and miscellaneous items in individual depressions forming a grid. That is how I kept my stuff ordered and things where I could find them. I was probably using it as an auxiliary brain (like I use my phone these days) and storing items was the equivalent of storing things in my memories, I'd, merely have to look at or touch an item to bring back memories.