Skin

While other 5-year-olds played with rubber ducks in the bath, I sat in the sweet strawberry scented tub of childhood, perfecting my bubble beard, and discovering my interest: skin.

For hours, I would watch my fingers and toes prune. I’d scrub my body, and examine the dead cells exfoliate away, accumulating more the harder I scrubbed. Through this, bathtime became lab time.

Little did I know, my fa(skin)ation would only grow from there.

When I was 12, through my severe nut allergies, I learned that skin serves as an external messenger for the internal. I accidentally ate a cookie that touched a lethal peanut butter cookie, and within minutes my skin broke out, changed color, and sent an amber alert to my body. I didn’t understand what my skin was saying, and I found that applying coats of topical ointments didn’t work. However, chugging Benadryl did. Through this experience, learned that superficial solutions can’t always solve issues, rather, addressing the internal root of a problem is right approach.

Throughout high school, I continued my quest to learn about skin. Through Medical Science Academy, I delved into the world of skin guns, vitiligo and cancerous vs. benign moles. I saw the medical side of skin, but soon I saw how the world around me was affected by it too. As I walked through Los Angeles, I saw the diversity of the city, but rather than through melanin, it was through freckles, acne scars, wrinkles, burns or eczema. Yearning to learn more, I interned at Dr. Ahdout’s dermatology clinic, observing procedures that ranged from botox injections to tumor removals. In no time, I found myself binge-watching Dr. Pimple Popper videos or reading articles on the newest revolutionary skincare products.

There are three layers to the skin. One concept in my research that I found particularly intriguing was that the deeper one delves beneath the surface, the more sensitive each layer becomes. Quite frankly, the same is true for me. As I’ve grown up, I’ve come to see that the layers of my skin represent the layers of me.

The epidermis, the outermost layer of skin, forms my complexion and serves as my protection. This is the layer that makes me, me: my humor. Whether it’s through performing skits with my pillow-stuffed shirt, making “Vote Ava-cado, she’ll be a smash!” my slogan, or spending endless nights making my friends cry from laughter, humor provides me an outlet to express my creativity. However, it also serves as my shield and protection for the layer underneath…

The dermis, the second layer of skin, provides feeling and strength. For me, this is my fear of judgement. It’s even happening now: What if you thought my avocado joke wasn’t funny? What if you think the whole skin thing is kinda’ weird? But I’ve learned that through listening and asking questions, I’m able to better understand people, mind set/psyche. My fear has taught me to learn from other’s expectations, but not to let them control me. As I’ve grown, I’ve learned that, much like when skin is under constant pressure and forms calluses or extra thickness, my vulnerabilities put me under pressure, leaving me with thicker, stronger, and perfectly imperfect skin.

The subcutaneous fat, the thickest and deepest layer, is the part that forms my support base: my Jewish and Persian roots. Through weekly Shabbat dinners, I’ve learned to take a break from external pressures and find solace in family. Through the Persian language, I’ve observed that a common tongue instills a natural sense of community and comfort. My heritage, the layer closest to my soul, provides me guidance and support, leaving me my thickest layer of protection for the internal.

Through the bubble baths and allergy attacks, my skin has guided me, intrigued me, and even scared me at times. However, just as skin sheds and regrows, each aspect of me is constantly evolving, strengthening and developing, constantly leading me to the best version of myself.