It the Brown Spot; Confessions of a Former Sun Goddess

1 comment July 13th, 2009

“Eek!” I cried, while thinking to myself that it must be a shadow in the mirror.  No, it was (insert scary music here) the dreaded brown spot.  I tried to deny it by telling myself that as a licensed esthetician, I’ve practiced what I’ve preached.  Stayed out of the sun for the last twenty plus years, religiously worn my broad-spectrum sun block for the last twelve, used my topical vitamin C, given myself countless skin peels, used myself as a test subject for products before offering them to my clients. Yet, there “It” was.  Smack, dab to the left of my eyebrow.  How could this appear without warning?

Flashbacks started to unfold in my mind.  As teenagers, my beautiful, fair skinned redhead friend Cindi the model and I had nothing better to do all day but bask in our floating lawn chairs on Spring Brook Lake.  Not a care in the world but to get the darkest tan.  Eventually, all of her freckles would meld into one, right? 

Life in Florida, nearly comatose from the beating tropical sun, visions of white spots were appearing on my face yet my tan was getting darker.  Better sleep by the pool a few more hours to even it out.  Walking home from Lauderdale-by-the-Sea, swollen lips, heat stroke and blisters the size of silver dollars, only to have my mother’s physician-husband threaten to admit me to the hospital if I didn’t get into the ice cold bathtub. Remember metallic tanning blankets? Why spend the money?  Just roll out the aluminum foil next to the pool, slather myself in baby oil and not forget the white zinc oxide for my nose so it won’t blister.  Little did I know the damage had already been done.

A few years later, while working as a makeup artist at the Boca Raton Bloomingdale’s, the sun not only dawned on me but hit me on the head.  An overly tanned, professional tennis player was in my chair asking me to even out her complexion.  She had a deep white line between her brows from not wearing sunglasses when she played and looked at least twenty years older than her actual age.  It scared me and I never went out in the sun for more than ten minutes again.

Call “It” what you want.  Age spot, sun spot, grandma’s liver spot!  “It” has arrived.  The technical term for it is hyperpigmentation.  Years of teenage sun worship have begun to show it’s true discolored self.  UV rays, the passage of time and declining estrogen are thinning the skin’s dermis layer, not only making little wrinkles appear but bringing “It” to the surface and spreading all over the left side of my face.

Sticky note on bathroom mirror: I shall continue to wear my broad spectrum sun block even when going to the store because UV rays penetrate the window while I’m driving. This is why hyperpigmentation so often occurs on our left sides.

Help is on the way.  Stay tuned for what you and I can do for other sun damage and the demise of “It”.

(music fade out)