Damn. Just when I was thinking my freckles actually made me look (a bit) younger, a not-so-good friend who shall remain nameless, pointed out that those marks on my face were actually age spots, aka liver spots, aka senile freckles. WTF?
Digging through old photographs, I remember that, unlike Julianne Moore, I was not a Freckle-Face Strawberry. In my high school yearbooks, the only marks on my pubescent face are a massive underground zit and my beloved Cindy Crawford-esque mole by my mouth. So where did these freckle fraudsters come from?
The sun, of course.
If you’re like me and came of age in the 80’s, you probably spent half your youth in a bikini, flaked out on a silver blanket, basting yourself with baby oil until your skin resembled the Thanksgiving turkey. Even through my 30’s, I’ve fooled myself into thinking that I really needed some Vitamin D, but that blazing ball of gas in the sky is a scamp, leaving a smattering of liver-colored spots all over my youth.
Next stop…brightening creams!