My First F*cking Age Spot

Today I got a manicure. My manicurist's name is Lily and I really like her because she's very gentle, and she doesn't seem resentful, yet nor is she perky or bubbly. She's probably in her late 40's and she has very beautiful hands with long, tapered fingers that interest me because her face, in contrast, is so round.
Anyhow, during the manicure, she's massaging moisturizer into my forearms and she says, "Your skin is so nice."
"Thanks," I say.
She then proceeds to point at a little brown spot on my arm, and then gestures to all the many brown spots on her forearms.
They're not dark brown like moles, they're just like a splattering of freckles and they don't look bad but I know that they are caused by sun damage and they increase as we age. And yes I already knew that I have one and I just try not to think about it.
"What, age spots?" I say. "Please don't freak me out by pointing out my age spot!"
Probably she saw that I was getting slightly hysterical (and who can blame me? My manicurist just POINTED OUT MY FIRST AGE SPOT!) so she waves her hands dismissively and said, "Eh, if your mom and dad don't have, you won't have."
"Both my parents DO have them," I say morosely.
"Ah, you're young. No worry," she says.

NO WORRY? Not only have I been WORRYING about the spot for the past two hours, I now find myself WRITING about it!