We Don’t Need Your Comments Here
Image Credit: Melanie Sio
A few days ago, I was talking to a co-worker of mine. Not someone I know well but someone I see perhaps once a month for a quick chat. After talking about work for 20 minutes, he said, “why don’t you get the mole on your neck removed?” I was stunned. I fumbled a bit and said, “Yeah, one day I will, maybe, but it costs to go to the doctors to have it cut out, needs stitches etc., so no rush.”
What do you even say to that? When I talked to my husband about it, he said I should have pointed out something about his face that I thought needed changing. I couldn’t stop wondering if, during our conversation, this guy had been like Austin Powers, thinking moley moley moley moley until he just couldn’t hold it anymore.
This unwanted advice continued to play in my mind – like working on the seven stages of grief. I started in denial, i.e. I’m not that bothered about it, it doesn’t worry me, I don’t love it, but you know, it’s not a priority for me to change it right now. I don’t care what other people think; that’s their opinion. I’m good.
Then I moved on to depression and shame. I started wearing a scarf and feeling self-conscious. I began touching and hiding it. That one comment and I was feeling bad about something that has been a part of my body my whole life.
Then I was angry. How dare this guy tell me what would make me look better? Who is this guy to me anyway? He is not anyone of significance. Why do I care about his opinion? And where does the advice even stop? You would look better if you lost 10kgs or got a boob job?
I then realised that no woman should ever be told or even wants to hear things about her body that would look better if it was changed. We are already our worst critics when it comes to our bodies. Other people should keep their unwanted opinions to themselves!
When I was pregnant, I noticed random people in the supermarket coming up to me. They would rub my puku without asking. I would never walk up to someone and rub their puku, or touch their hair or squeeze their cheeks. Why is it suddenly acceptable to rub mine or anyone else’s baby belly just because I’m pregnant? It’s an invasion of personal space.
I felt the same about my co-workers’ statements.
Then I reached a feeling of reconstruction and acceptance. Why do I care so much about what this guy thinks? In truth, I don’t. I have always been a little bothered about this mole on my neck. I’ve never loved it. Sometimes these gross thick, wiry, black hairs grow out of it, and I pluck them as soon as they start to regrow. But, I have people who love and accept me as I am, moles and all. It isn’t a priority for me to change it.
Maybe one day, I will have it removed when it feels right for me to do that and not because someone told me I would look better without it.
