I’d Been Ashamed of the Birthmark on My Forehead Since Childhood – 25 Years Later, It Changed My Life

“Did you hit your head?” he asked.

Another kid laughed. “It looks like paint.”

It only got worse from that point.

I remember staring down at my milk carton, my ears burning, pretending I didn’t hear them, that I was somewhere else entirely.

You learn that trick young when you need to.

In middle school, it got louder.

Everything gets louder in middle school, doesn’t it? The voices, the cruelty, the way kids who barely know you think they have a right to comment on your body.

A girl I barely knew cornered me in the bathroom one afternoon and said, “You should cover that up so the rest of us don’t have to look at it.”

I told a teacher once.

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