There’s one bodily organ which most of us spend an enormous amount of time fiddling with or talking about – our skin.
We pick it, squeeze it, rub it, scrub it, stretch it, shave it, pluck it, wax it, scratch it, tear it, cut it, stitch it, burn it, colour it. We expose it to a wide range of temperatures and weather conditions. We drench it on a daily basis and spend a fortune on fragrances, chemicals and creams for it.
I’ve never been really comfortable in my skin and suspect I’ve spent more than the average amount of time poking around with it – mostly because my skin is ridiculously over-sensitive. It has a blue-white hue which goes pink in the sun, fading to freckles and the dreaded ‘brown spots’, and as for my feet – they blister if they even look at a pair of shoes which they suspect might not be comfortable.
In my teen years I suffered the usual T-zone spots and blackheads and have never quite grown out of them. Over the past couple of years, I’ve also developed a sun allergy which results in me spending most of the summer with a bumpy rash everywhere the sun touches unless I splash on the Factor 50. I’ve got more moles than a dot-to-dot book has dots. I have hyperhidrosis in my hands, resulting in perpetually sweaty palms and a dread of all occasions where I’ll have to shake hands with anyone. Skin-wise, I’m a bit of a mess.
But as I look around me at everyone else’s shades and textures, it does make me wonder about our insides. Is there such variety in any of our internal organs or is one spleen just like another?