Scars and birthmarks are the first thing I usually notice about a person. They are a shout out to the world, Unique, Customized, One of a Kind, and I find them quite attractive.
It was about 15 years ago when I learned that my perspective and view of these marks are a bit unique and others don’t see what I see; which I find equally as odd as those who think they look like flaws.
I didn’t intentionally not talk about these amazing marks and my respect of them, it just never came up until I saw a man with a crimson birthmark covering one side of his face. I was with my husband, back in my married days, and met his coworker for the first time. I could hardly contain my composure when I saw this other man and his birthmark. Not that I wanted to jump his bones, but I did want to go on and on about how completely AWESOME his fabulous mark of individuality looked, like he was a chosen one to receive such a mark. When my husband and I left the building, I couldn’t restrain my admiration past walking out the door. By the time we got into the car, he had the most bizarre look on his face. It was a cross between wanting to take me for a psychological evaluation mixed with a soft smile of intrigued delicacy. Kind of like, You have a third eye ... I think I may like it ...
