fair skinned? embrace the pale!

This weekend was pretty nice, huh?  I could've done with a little less wind yesterday, but that is my only complaint about the weather. 

Which is strange, because I can always find lots of weather-related crap to complain about.

So on Sunday, I broke out the sundresses for the first time this year.  I picked a bright blue one and when I slipped it on, I realized just how pale I looked.  My legs haven't been exposed to natural light in quite some time.  I didn't even need to check myself out in the mirror.  All I had to do was look down and see the huge contrast between my blue dress and my pasty white legs. 

I actually have a spray bronzer for occasions such as these (where one finds themselves possibly in need of Vitamin D exposure).  I picked up the bottle and was about to spray myself when I noticed my biopsy scar.

You know, the one I have from that cancerous mole.

I spent most of my life practically worshiping the sun.  Yeah, all of those tans faded.  But the feeling of finding out you had cancer at 27 because of all of that sun worshiping?  That NEVER goes away.

You know what else doesn't go away?  The anxiety you feel knowing that because you've had one cancerous mole, you're much more likely to have another.

Who am I kidding?  Why do I want to look tanned?  I wear SPF 30 every day.  My complexion has never looked healthier.  I'm  the palest Mexican you'll ever meet.

Having darker skin than you were born with is not healthy.  UV rays from sun exposure (and those fake and bake booths) have the power to change the genetic make-up of your cells.  And once that genetic make-up changes, there's no turning back, there's no going back to normal.  The sun does really scary sh*t to your body.

My skin is the whitest it's ever been.  So, I'm embracing my pale.  There is absolutely no shame in not getting cancer (again).

Image source: loopsandpluto.com

pale is the new tan

I came back from my trip to California with something completely unexpected, despite the fact that I’ve lived there my whole life and I shouldn’t be surprised. I came back with a tan. I didn’t think it was that obvious, but on my first day back in the office, everyone was telling me that I was ‘glowing.’ The most common compliment I received was, “You look so good with some color.” Really? Do I look that different?

I didn’t purposely go looking for a tan. The tan found me. Normally, I’m pretty good about wearing sunscreen and carrying it around with me when I know that I will be out in the sun for most of the day. I make sure to buy lotions and make up with SPF in them. But I forgot to wear sunscreen on days that were overcast. Silly me! It may be cloudy out there but you can still get a tan (or a burn if you’re so inclined). Even Jesse got some color, which he really doesn’t like.

Do you know what a tan is? There are cells in your skin called melanocytes which produce melanin, a chemical that produces your skin color. Whenever you skin is exposed to sunlight, the melanocytes work over time to produce melanin. The melanin absorbs the UV radiation from the sunlight to protect your cells from damage. Each time your skin becomes tanned or burned, damage is done to individual skin cells and DNA. Some cells die and some repair themselves by getting rid of the damaged DNA. Cells that cannot repair themselves, eventually become defective cancerous cells.

Now that the science lesson is over, I should tell you that I wasn’t always anti-sun-exposure. In fact, I didn’t begin to question how much sun I got until 2004, when I noticed that a mole on my leg (that I had had my entire life) no longer looked so normal. You see, my brother, sister, and I all have tiny moles all over our bodies. They’re not the giant, hairy kinds. They’re little brown spots that my mom calls pequitas or ‘little freckles.’ It wasn’t uncommon for me to see a new brown spot on my skin and think nothing of it.

I had done a paper in grad school on sun exposure and skin cancer risk in children in Orange County. Following that paper, I began to pay closer attention to the suspicious mole on my leg. I noticed that it began to have texture. Pretty soon, it took on an asymmetrical shape. Also, the color was uneven. Eventually, by the end of 2004, the mole appeared to be sticking out of my skin. By 2005, I was shaving it off in the shower on a regular basis (by accident, of course). I would then bleed profusely, stick a band-aid on it and then be on my way. Shortly after the wound healed, the mole would return, with its puffy texture and uneven color.

I realized that what I had was not necessarily a mole any more. But I was scared to find out what it was. I eventually sucked it up and tried to get an appointment with a dermatologist. Every dermatologist I called in DC had a three month wait for new patients. What the hell? I could be dying but I have to wait 3 months to see if I have cancer?? I found a dermatologist in VA not too far from where Jesse lived at the time. Hers was a two month wait.

Two months later, I stepped into her office and suddenly realized why there was such a long wait to see her. All of the women in the waiting room were old. And the ladies working the reception desk were all wearing black baby tees with the word “Botox” in silver rhinestones. It was unlike any doctors office I had ever stepped foot in. I wondered if the people working behind a reception desk in an urologist’s office have t-shirts with the word “Viagra” in big, bold letters.

When I got called in to the see the doctor, she inspected my naked body while asking me my sunburn history. She paid close attention to the mole in question. She scheduled me for a punch biopsy two weeks later.

A punch biopsy, for those of you unfamiliar, is procedure done to determine whether something is cancerous. It looks kinda like an apple corer and it feels as if someone is whole punching your skin. I was under local anesthetic, so it wasn’t as painful as it sounds. The doctor took my punched out layers of skin and placed it in a tube that contained a preservative fluid. She sewed me right up (I could definitely feel that despite the anesthetic). After the procedure, I looked at the tube and the 1 inch long, thick piece of my skin floating in the fluid. I remember cringing. Jesse, who had sat with me during the whole thing (and every dermatologist appointment I had), told me that everything was going to be ok.

Two weeks later, I was to return for my results. I could not sleep the night before. I was incredibly scared. Jesse held my hand while we waited for the results. A nurse came in to my exam room with a sheet of paper. She told me what I needed to know. Unfortunately, my suspicions were true. Fortunately, the punch biopsy revealed ‘clean margins,’ meaning it had removed everything that was bad. Woo hoo! I was cancer-free! The nurse said, “Had you waited much longer, I wouldn’t have had good news for you.” Those words have really stuck with me. And as someone who works in public health, it really proves just how important preventative care is.

Eventually, my suture healed but left a nasty scar, despite my daily applications of Neosporin. Life returned to normal. I’m much more aware of protecting my skin and I make sure that Jesse protects his. Recently, he bought a facial cream with SPF in it. I couldn’t have been prouder.

I was pretty embarrassed to come back with a tan. But soon, the color will fade and I’ll be just as pale as before.

Pale and happy.

not buying the “brain tumor made me do it” excuse

My sister is ten years older than me (which would make her nearly 40). She’s super traditional, conservative, and still waiting for Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet (aren’t we all at some point?). In other words, she is not like me at all. Her whole life she’s had super high standards for guys and when her boyfriends don’t meet those standards, she loses all hope of a future with that person. She’s never been married and her biological clock is ticking like a bomb.

Three years ago, she dated this guy. He was divorced. He had a child with his ex that he shares custody with. I never met him, but I’ve seen pictures of him spending Thanksgiving with my family. My sister was seriously head over heels for this guy. I had some misgivings about the success of that relationship but I know better than to tell my sister not to get her hopes up. Why was I concerned? Well, first off, this guy told her that he loved her on their third date. I know that I’m typically very cynical about these things but how do you love someone you’re still getting to know? The next thing that freaked me out about this guy is that he and my sis started talking marriage about a month into the relationship. Again, how do you start planning a future with someone that you’ve only known for 4 weeks?

My sister, on the other hand, was in heaven. She found a guy who wore his heart on his sleeve, already told her that he loved her, and seemed interested in marrying her someday (soon). Since my sister is a teacher, she’s got lots of experience with kids so she had no problem bonding with this guy’s daughter. It’s like she was given an instant family. Not surprisingly, my sister believed that this was her Prince Charming.

Fast forward several months later. My sister and her boyfriend suddenly started having problems out of the blue. They weren’t seeing each other as often, and when they did, he wasn’t able to secure a babysitter so his daughter had to come along (something tells me this kinda killed the romance). Sometimes, he would flat out ask my sister to take care of his daughter while he went out with friends. Other times, he wouldn’t return her phone calls for days. Eventually, my sister had had enough (it took her a couple of weeks before she realized this was not healthy relationship behavior). She was able to get a hold of him on the phone one night and they had a fight. It was their first fight. When they finally got off the phone, nothing was resolved. My sister decided to sleep on it and give him some time to think about things. She called him a couple of days later and left a message. She tried again the next day because he didn’t call her back. She attempted to contact him a few days later. Still no response. Eventually, my sister got the hint and stopped calling (thanks to me, BTW). Apparently, Mr. I-Love-You-After-Three-Dates didn’t have the balls to break up with her. I didn’t know that guys in their late 30s still behaved that way.

My sister was upset for a long time but she moved on eventually and started to date again.

Fast forward two years. My sister is dating around but nothing serious. This week, she got a letter. Surprise, surprise! The letter is from Mr. I-Love-You-After-Three-Dates. Among the contents of this letter are the following (I’m paraphrasing, of course):

• I was a jerk
• I realized that you are the best thing that ever happened to me.
• I’m sorry I treated you like shit.
• The reason I treated you like shit is because I had a brain tumor.
• I’m in remission now. Wanna meet for coffee?
  

Yup, the guy blamed his bizarre behavior on a brain tumor. Obviously, this claim is far too severe (for lack of a better word) to lie about in order to get some sympathy. And if it is a lie, this guy deserves to be in the Stupid Boy Hall of Fame. Regardless of the truth, I don’t think my sister should give him another shot.

Here’s what I think might have happened (if I believed the brain tumor story)… Mr. I-Love-You-After-Three-Dates really didn’t have the balls to break up with my sister so he chose avoidance. And then he started getting headaches and maybe a random seizure here and there. He went to a doctor to check things out and turns out he has a brain tumor. Suddenly, the world does not look like it used to. He begins to appreciate little things in life because he’s not sure if he’s going to live much longer. He begins to question decisions he’s made in the past. He realizes that my sister made him happy and loved him unconditionally. He begins to regret letting her go and decides to contact her if Fate allows him to live through this. Fate is kind and gives him a second chance. Mr. I-Love-You-After-Three-Dates writes the letter and prays that my sister will give him another shot.

But seriously though, this guy couldn’t properly break up with my sister because of a brain tumor he didn’t know he had?? Come on now. I’m definitely not one to take cancer lightly. My father died from cancer and then I had a cancerous mole removed (and while skin cancer isn’t as scary as some of the other cancers provided that you catch it in time, it’s still the Big C) 2 years ago. Still, that is the most outrageous excuse for seemingly inexplicable boy behavior EVER.

Normally, I sit around and wait for my sister to learn her lessons the hard way. Everyone in my family is pretty stubborn, especially my sister, so I gave up on thwarting her catastrophes a LONG time ago. However, I’m willing to butt in now because I’m so outraged and I don’t want my sister to get hurt again.

Am I a heartless bitch for not having any sympathy for this guy?

…that is like, so RANDOM

It appears that I’ve been put on notice…I mean, tagged. At the request of the lovely Madame Meow at a Daily Dose of Zen Sarcasm (an excellent blog, BTW), I have been asked to give you 8 random facts about me. Here are the meme rules:

• I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
• Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
• People who are tagged need to write their own blog post about their eight things and post these rules.
• At the end of your post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
• Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
  

Before I give you my random facts, I want you to know that I actually worked hard at these (and by ‘worked hard’ I mean I brainstormed like mad while I was on the elliptical and the stationary bike during my workout yesterday). This is mostly due to the fact that some of my friends read this blog and they already know most of the random stuff about me. So I wanted these random bites to be truly, incredibly RANDOM. Let’s see how successful I was…

1. Little people scare me. No really, they do. I know that’s a horrible thing to say, but I can’t even get through Charlie and the Chocolate Factory without feeling incredibly uncomfortable. And I’m not even sure where this fear comes from. I’m a truly awful person, I know.
2. I’m actually REALLY looking forward to the Spice Girls reunion. In fact, I might even be willing to shell out some moola if they have a reunion tour and it comes to DC. And I will definitely get the greatest hits compilation CD. Come on, admit it. The mere mention of “zig-a-zig-ah” brings a smile to your face. Hopefully Posh Spice will dye her hair back to brown for the reunion. I’m so over that platinum blonde bob she has (actually, the bob is fine, I just hate the color).
3. I am 100% confident that the one decision I will never regret in my life is going to USC. The education was top notch, the extracurriculars were more than worthwhile, and the football team rocks! In fact, I wouldn’t even be in DC had it not been for the USC DC program. And when I have kids, they’ll definitely be going to USC. Jesse doesn’t know this, however. I’ve told him that I would want our kids to go to whatever school would make them happy, even if that school is Virginia Tech (his alma mater). But the truth is that I know they’ll love USC better.
4. I’ve always been an above average basketball player. In college, I played IM-REC co-ed basketball. During my freshman year, I played pick up games with the boys in my dorm but I had to convince my best guy friend at the time, Mack, to let me play. Let’s just say I was a blessing in disguise. Once, I spent an entire game making open three-point shots because the guys on the other team didn’t feel it was worth their time to guard me. I had made 4 in a row. When I jumped up to make my 5th shot, some guy from the other team decided to guard me a few seconds too late. I came down from my shot, landed on him, and then rolled over on my ankle. I limped for a whole week. That was the last of my pick up game days.
5. My all-time favorite movie is The Lion King (this is not the random fact). It came out in 1994 (I was 15 at the time). The year it came out, my mom bought me a whole Lion King kids bedroom set (which I happily set up in my room) and over the years, I have amassed quite a collection of Lion King stuffies. When I moved away to college, I tried to recreate my Lion King bed in my dorm and I brought a few stuffies with me. Currently, in my bedroom back in Cali, my bed is still all Lion King and the stuffies take up half of the bed. My bedroom is apparently my niece’s favorite room in my mom’s house (in case you forgot, Serena Rose is 2 years old).
6. My college roommate and I use to philosophize about male/female relationships when we weren’t cramming for Bio or Chem freshman year. We even came up with some of our own theories, including one that we tested over and over again. We called it the (Insert my last name here)-(Insert roommie’s last name here) Theory. It was our pride and joy. I can’t remember the exact wording, but essentially we theorized that a not-so-physically-attractive man could be made attractive if he had a great personality.
7. When I lived in California, I was always pretty tan. This was no accident. I would purposely lie out in the sun to get darker any time of year. Now, I am completely the opposite (well, that skin cancer really makes you avoid the sun at all costs). However, I still carry my Cali driver’s license with me (with a picture of a very, very tan me). Whenever I show my ID at bars and restaurants, I often get a double take and a “wow, you look so different now.” The difference between me then and me now is literally like night and day.
8. I have the biggest girl crush on Gwen Stefani. If I were a lesbian, I would totally want to hook up with her. Jesse really hates it when I say that.
   

Ok, I’m done. I don’t want to force anyone to continue the meme so I’m just going to throw some blogger names out there and if anyone wants to share some randomness, then go for it: sunchaser, dcweddingphotog, photobugchick , any of the Hokie bloggers on the right.

another reason for me to hate the 'burbs

bug bites
Originally uploaded by lizzie c..

So, on Saturday, I went out to MD for a backyard bar-b-q party. Little did I know that mosquitos come out during the day (for some reason I thought they were nocturnal creatures...silly me). And mosquitos just love me. Unfortunately, the feeling is not mutual. I hate the little blood suckers because they leave my skin looking like this. And oh my god, I itch so bad, I just wanna scratch my skin raw.

By the way, yes, I really am that white. I'm probably the whitest Mexican out there. Don't make fun tho. I try to avoid the sun since my big skin cancer scare of '05. Yet, my bad mole (now gone and just a scar on my leg) never looked like these bites.