Please god, don’t let them think I’m ugly.

I’m in Heaven at last. I’ve finally found a street vendor that sells my beloved jianbing. It’s been a week since I arrived in China and I have not yet had my favorite Chinese snack. This precious discovery almost makes up for Chongqing’s unbearable heat. It is late September and well into the 90s-degrees that is. Chongqing is so hot, and humid, that I can’t go outside without sweating profusely-not to mention my hair, which is normally quite manageable, becomes a “hot mess.” Speaking of hot messes; thank god for youtube because it allows me to catch up on project runway.

In addition to finding my favorite street-eat, I also found a restaurant that sells my favorite type of noodle-la mian. The waitress and cook absolutely loved me because I spoke Chinese, I complimented them on their la mian making skills, and apparently I am excellent at using chopsticks. Go me. I also went to the government’s Foreign Experts Bureau today and then to the police station and finally success! My tourist visa is now being changed to a work visa as I type. That’s probably the best birthday present I could have asked for. Looks like things are finally shaping up for me in China-except for one overblown comment…

I had a very interesting conversation with my new Chinese friend, Jasmine, the other day. Apparently, Chinese people, or at least some of those who are uninformed, are under the impression that freckles are a disease caused by the sun. Sitting on the bus, she asks me why my skin is like that and if it hurts. I explain to her that in America freckles are quite normal, not some disgusting deformity, and that it doesn’t hurt but I look this way because my skin is fair and that’s how it is affected by the sun. While I’ve been questioned and examined due to my freckles before-once I was a camp counselor and I had 7 year olds sit on my lap and attempt to point and count each individual freckle, never before had any unintentionally made me feel so worried about my appearance. Every time I get stares I can’t help but worry that the person thinks I’m a hideous speckled foreigner. Am I the ugliest or strangest person they’ve ever seen? This brings back memories when a bully in second grade called me poop face because of my freckles. Since then my self-esteem has grown (not to be vain or anything but due to compliments and admirers I’ve tended to believe that I’m pretty cute) but now I’ve reverted back to my childhood insecurities and now constantly worry about my appearance.

That’s just one more thing to add to my long list of neuroses.