April 1995

I’m starting a new weekly feature on Life’s Dewlaps: The Way It Used To Be Thursday.

A lot of bloggers have weekly features, posting to a certain theme on a particular day of the week. Wordless Wednesday is a very popular one. On that day, a blogger might publish a photograph or five that are especially joyful, endearing or smile-inducing. I’ve also seen a lot of Fun Friday features but my Friday fun may not be someone else’s idea of fun. So I’m choosing to make up my own.

I know The Way It Used To Be Thursday is not a very catchy name but the subject matter is going to be enticing. You’re going to want to read about the way it used to be. We’ll take a walk down my Memory Lane. Some Thursdays it might be a remembrance of a long ago psilocybin-induced hallucination or a look in to the history of vibrators (the entire industry, not just mine.) Some posts will be from my personal past. Like the time in my life when I wore a bikini and my boobs didn’t sag. There will be some broader subjects as well like a look at rotary phones that took forever to dial or how we used to make tape recordings off of the songs on the radio.

For the inaugural edition of The Way It Used To Be Thursday, I’m going personal. Here it is:

I used to have a mole on my face. Cindy Crawford-ish like. Just above the left part of my upper lip. I always hated it. I had one boyfriend who was aroused when he licked it. Not kidding. He didn’t last. (Don’t judge me. I wasn’t the one with the problem.)

I had it removed a few months before I got married the first time. I didn’t want the mole in my wedding pictures. I went to a plastic surgeon and, after a little local anesthesia, he lopped it right off with a really, really sharp scalpel. No stitches or anything.

I was thrilled with how my pictures came out. My 29 year-old face looked exactly how I wanted it to. Smooth and without too many blemishes. The marriage though? That was another story. Sixteen years later, I find myself divorced and remarried. Fighting the battle of an age-induced speckled face caused by too many years of sitting in the Miami sun slathered with baby oil. Applying a nightly layer of Retin-A and Vitamin C serum. And perhaps, in the next few months, undergoing microdermabrasion or even laser skin resurfacing, if I win the lottery.

But I wonder how much different my life would be if I still had the mole. Would I be more successful? Bitchier? Or a supermodel? Would I still be married? Maybe the mole was my center of power. Where I got my joie de vivre from. I’ll never know. And from time to time, I catch myself touching my face, just above the left part of my upper lip, trying to feel my phantom mole.

If I had kept the mole, I definitely wouldn’t have found this scene from Austin Power’s Goldmember to be funny. Sans mole? I thought it was hysterical. Enjoy. And happy The Way It Used To Be Thursday.