I’ve got a weird mole. It’s new and I don’t like it. Like many people I’ve got loads of moles and personally I don’t mind them, I think they’re alright.

I’ve got one on my arm that looks like a coco-pop which is my favourite one, some other boring ones which can’t be likened to breakfast cereals, as well as trillions and trillions of freckles. These are all good, I like them.

But this new one is an imposter. It arrived a couple of years ago as a small growth on my outer thigh. Not knowing what it was I picked it off (disclaimer: DO NOT DO THIS). But it was determined and grew back, much bigger, just to remind me who’s boss.

I tried to ignore it but it looks ugly. I can feel it through leggings, sometimes even JEANS urgh, and I find myself seeking it out during the day to run my fingers over it. And it’s pink not brown like all my other moles. It just doesn’t match.

I got it checked out by my doctor. She requested a photograph and then called me back and said it’s fine, nothing to worry about, just leave it alone.

But I didn’t want to leave it alone. I wanted it to be gone.

My hatred of it just seems to be fuelling it’s expansion, because I swear it’s still growing. Shit like this is just another thing they don’t warn you about. As if being a 40+ year old female isn’t already like physical whack-a-mole: deal with grey hairs, deal with wrinkles, deal with weight gain, too much hair in one place not enough in others, hormones etc, we also now have to contend with, urgh, unexplained growths. It’s not fair.

I’ve thought about going somewhere private and getting it removed. My mum reminded me that I’d be left with a scar and wouldn’t that be worse? Nope, I argued, a cool scar would be definitely be preferable than an old lady mole.

But in the absence of someone to actually remove it, I’m really trying to shift my thinking. Yeah it’s different than all the others, doesn’t that just make it better? I’m always telling my kids that being different is a GOOD THING. But here I am discriminating against my new mole because it doesn’t fit in with the crowd. I’m a terrible mother.

OK I’m really going to try and welcome it into the mole fold. Now that the initial ick has started to wear off I can recognise that in the scheme of shit things that start to happen as you get older, this one is mild and could even be spun into a positive.

I didn’t like my new mole at first. But then with a more mature eye I started to admire it’s determination and tenacity. Its not afraid to be different, and it’s wearing a Pink Ladies jacket. Omg my new mole is Rizzo.