My trips to Korea visiting family are usually accompanied by a visit to the dermatologist. Dermatologist doesn't sound quite accurate, too scientific in the motherland of high-end skincare and aesthetics. Such clinics are scattered everywhere around Seoul, each promising the same: clear, smooth skin free of scars or any sign of life. I've been poked, prodded, lasered, and even once given a soothing face mask that covered my nose and mouth, making me feel suffocated for 30 minutes. It's never my choice to go, my mom drags me, and though I will argue on the way there, I admit I always look significantly better afterwards - whatever that means.
I received new findings at my consultation this time around. I had tiny, barely noticeable, flat warts scattered everywhere across my face - at least 50, the doctor said. I needed to have them removed immediately, followed by two weeks of covering all of them up with "duoderm", band-aids that mimicked skin. My mom was excited to catch me with evidence that I didn't take care of my skin enough, but these warts were common; anyone could get this skin virus, and lots of people unknowingly did. Sharing towels, touching your face in a shared change room, existing in any form, really.
So, I had them removed. The actual procedure took only about 15 minutes as they zapped off my skin and held me down. The air smelled like burnt skin. I spent the rest of my trip self conscious about my face, though relatives told me it was hardly noticeable. I won't go into detail, but imagine tiny open wounds all over your face. My cousins reassured me that they had been through worse. One said she was overdue for the procedure, as I squinted close to her face trying to find what she was referring to, unsure what was the culprit, acne, or just the regular texture of skin. Both of them had gotten rid of them before, but the warts were slowly creeping back.
"So, if it's so expensive to get rid of, it's harmless, I'm probably going to get it again anyways, and everyone has it, why am I doing this?"
"You'll look prettier, it'll be worth it."
If lots of people had little harmless bumps like mine, didn't that mean those bumps were just... skin? A shared sign of a life lived? How many times throughout my life was I going to have to get my skin lasered off? Was there any point in trying to avoid touching my face, sharing towels, etc.? How long was this newfound smooth skin going to last? Was there any point... at all?
How do we avoid doing the things that are bad for us, when existing is bad for us? There are microplastics in everything, people are dying, the Earth is dying, etc etc. How responsible are we for the things that hurt us? Am I a neglectful person because I touch my face? What choice do we have?
I guess it feels just feels good to care, or something like that???