Born with a birthmark and nowhere to hide

By Jeanann Pannasch

updated 8:21 a.m. ET Nov. 3, 2008

I came into the world with a purplish-red port-wine-stain birthmark that cups my chin and continues across one cheek, into my ear and down my neck.

About 3 in 1,000 people are born with this kind of marking, caused by dilated blood vessels below the skin’s surface. My family acted as if it wasn’t a big deal, so I, too, accepted it as yet another way I was different from my three fair-haired siblings. I was the dark one with the birthmark.

Then I started kindergarten, where my appearance prompted constant questions from my classmates: “What’s wrong with your face? Is that a rash? What’s that red stuff? What happened? Did you spill something on yourself?”

“Tell them it’s a birthmark and that you were born with it. If they tease you, ignore them,” advised my mother, a New York City toughie who drank Schlitz and roasted a mean sauerbraten. But even at 5, I was all about self-preservation. So I kept my head down, hoping that if I didn’t notice my classmates, they would return the favor.

By fifth grade, though, anger roiled within me. When the boy who sat behind me leaned in close and whispered, “Hey, Red Beard! Red Beard!” I could barely suppress my rage. But I felt I had no right to defend myself. After all, I was stained.

In eighth grade, my English teacher had each of us write ourselves a letter, which she said she’d mail when we graduated high school. In fat, round print I wrote, “I sure hope you’re not as lonely. Remember how you couldn’t wear makeup? Well, next year, you can. I hope you’re better-looking now.”

Get coverage when you crave it Bare is beautiful! But if you ever want the option of camouflaging a birthmark, here are the best tips and treatments to consider. 1. Try a fast, natural-looking fix. The newest makeup alternatives cover birthmarks without leaving you feeling as if you’re wearing a mask. You’ll need: A flat concealer brush and a makeup sponge What to do: To avoid caked-on coverage, use a cream-based concealer such as Nicole Paxson Cosmetics Zerene Pudding, $39. For port-wine birthmarks, pick an orange or peachy hue to cancel out blue undertones, says Wendy Rowe, a makeup artist in New York City. Dip the brush in and lightly pat over the mark, starting in the middle, then feather out the pigment past its borders. Blend by dabbing edges with a damp sponge; finish with translucent powder such as Make Up For Ever HD Microfinish Powder, $30. 2. Erase port-wine birthmarks. Laser treatments used to cause scarring and bruising; they’re now more effective, less painful and easier to recover from. The innovation: Cynosure Cynergy Vascular Workstation How it works: “It offers two different wavelengths—one targeting blue pigment in skin, the other red—to both shrink and destroy blood vessels,” says David J. Goldberg, M.D., a dermatologist in NYC and former Cynosure researcher. Cost: $500 to $1,000 per session, although insurers will sometimes cover the procedure. Typically, you’ll need at least five treatments total. Ninety percent of patients see significant lightening after several sessions. —Eleanor Langston

The following September, a freshly minted high schooler and finally old enough, in my mother’s eyes, to wear makeup, I became adept at smoothing thick concealer over my red areas, then dabbing on powder to absorb the oil. The transformation was shocking. For years I’d prayed to God to take away my birthmark, but this secondhand solution—makeup—was a miracle. To my surprise, with this new face, in my new school, I was considered beautiful. I wore my lipstick and foundation like a shield but felt secretly giddy inside when a senior got down on his knees to beg me to go out with him. I filed away every compliment. Before, I’d wanted to disappear. Now I was eager to be seen.

Two years after I began wearing makeup, I heard about a laser surgery technique that erased birthmarks like mine. For my 16th birthday, my mother took me for a consultation, and I signed up, expecting a dramatic makeover worthy of Fantasy Island.

Instead, I had to go to school with a greasy ointment smeared over the test spots. Desperate to keep my secret, I mixed camouflage cream with Neosporin, telling people I’d burned myself with a curling iron. (It was 1988. No one questioned me.) Instead of deliverance, I got a scar on my chin. I decided to stick to makeup.

Master of my masquerade
When I covered up my birthmark, I masked my emotions as well. If a boy liked me too much, or if I liked him too much, I’d walk away. After years of loneliness and teasing, I couldn’t risk being vulnerable. So I became the master of my own blissful masquerade. Once, I went out dancing and was asked to be on the after-school dance party, Club MTV. Another time, a fashion photographer asked me to pose for him. It’s not that I wanted to be a model; I wanted to be considered able to be one.

Then I went to college, the first in my family to go. Naomi Wolf’s "The Beauty Myth," about the damaging impact our beauty-driven culture can have on women, was required for my women’s studies class. Wolf’s ideas unleashed the anger and sadness I’d suppressed. Makeup had shielded me during adolescence, but now I felt as if half of me was trapped beneath a shellacked surface.

Yet I couldn’t contemplate being invisible again or, worse, ugly. So I kept painting myself in, dreading every hug and kiss. A casual peck on the cheek meant carefully swinging my hair between my face and the kisser’s to avoid branding him with MAC Cosmetics Studio Fix NC35. Sometimes I’d step back and wave to avoid a physical exchange, which killed me, because my natural level of enthusiasm is akin to that of a puppy.

I hated bright sun and wind, especially when it blew my hair away from my neck. On hot days, I checked my makeup every hour or so: Unless I kept blotting, it would mix with my sweat and I’d look as if I’d dipped my chin in canola oil. All my actions were calculated to prevent scrutiny, to keep from being found out.

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