It's not contagious...

I'd like to take this opportunity to introduce everyone to a close friend of mine. We've been together my whole life and unless things start to get a little ragged around the edges we're going be together forever. When I was a little girl I was often embarrassed by our close relationship and would go to great lengths to hide it from others. As I have matured slightly over the years, I have come to a deep and personal understanding of our ties to one another and I want everyone to be able to accept it with open arms.
This my friends is my mole. Also referred to as a birthmark or beauty mark.
When I was a child I was ashamed of my big brown birthmark. It is on the outside of my right thigh half way between my hip and my knee. Wearing shorts or skirts of average length as a child would always expose it to the outside world, where it would be judged and mocked by others.
I haven't really thought too much about my mole and how it appears to "outsiders" until this week. With the new year there has been an influx of new meat at the YMCA. I couldn't help but notice that numerous young women kept doing a double take at my leg-ular region. I thought maybe they wanted to know some of my fitness secrets or even worse - was there a foreign body hanging out of my shorts or stuck to my person?
I'm no supermodel but my legs are alright, if fuzzy and stumpy is your thing, but all this attention was starting to make me a little self-conscious about all the attention my gams were getting. Oddly enough it took me awhile to realize what had caught their attention. It was my furry brown mole. I guess some people can't handle such a brazen display of epidermal fortitude because it had truly gobsmacked these delicate flowers.
If I may paraphrase a line from Mary Catherine Gallagher in the movie Superstar - I am fully aware that "...my birthmark looks like shit." Don't worry haters you can't catch what I've got...you've gotta be one of the chosen ones. So I'm gonna release the dove of hate on people who don't know enough not to stare at what they feel are physical oddities or deformities...you will soon feel the oppressive stench of dove deuce trickling down your simpleton faces leaving a rash for all the world to see. You will run through the streets branded by the dove screaming..."I am not an animal!"
So the next time you see my wicked ass birthmark say "Hi!" to my little friend, feel the awe its presence inspires, buy it candy and flowers (it likes daisies) caress it, be at one with it! (Ask before caressing)
"Put that in your back pack."
B-spot on the epidermal front!