Not So Tan

I come from a family of melanomers. What I mean is we are susceptible or predisposed or whatever you want to call it. We get skin cancers. My daddy, Trooper Bob, has been plagued with them and has lost several inches of skin to it. When we were kids we had no idea that this was even an issue. We would slather ourselves with baby oil. We would head out to the backyard with our roll of Reynolds Wrap stretch it out then lie on top and sizzle like bacon. We did the often and we loved getting sunburned. If you got sunburn that meant you would peel and if you peeled that means you would be tan next. If you were tan then you could be deep dark tropical tan. If you were deep dark tropical tan then you were beautiful. We did these things never thinking that one day our skin would look like bad beef jerky or be splattered and polka dotted with melanomas.

So now that we are older and supposedly wiser we no longer lie in the sun baking like a Christmas Goose. No, now we cover and smother ourselves in 5000 SPF sunscreen wear long sleeved turtle neck tops and long pants to the beach. We then spend the rest of the time we are at the beach moving the umbrella from side to side in order to stay out of the sun and be shielded from its evil effects.

Now when we want a healthy glow or the slimming effects of a tan we do what is healthy and natural. We search out our oldest swimsuit. We shave our legs and loofa our backs. We wrap our hair in a turban and head out to the spray on tanning booth. We step inside and within a short time we step out arms held far from our sides reeking of iodine tan and glowing. The other option is to buy a self tanner from your local store. This has to be healthier than actually sitting outside in the sun right?

Since having Dr. Mengila operated on me last summer I had decided that I would no longer be the beach lizard lying on the beach absorbing all those unhealthy vitamin D laden rays. No from here on out I am getting my Vitamin D the old fashioned way, from a bottle marked Nature’s Way. I made my way to the local Squall-mart and perused the cosmetic aisle until I found the one that looked like it would work. It said “No Streaking”. That is just the one I needed because honestly no one needs to see me running naked across a football field or the Academy Awards. I went home and followed the instructions to the letter. I bathed and exfoliated. I made sure my skin was perfectly dry. I shook the bottle liberally. I then applied generously being careful to apply too much to the knees and elbows. I rubbed and swirled and wiped until I had covered every inch of my body including the wrinkles and folds. I then went about my business being careful not to touch any parts which were covered in tanning potion. I waited the required time limitations and then dressed.

I was feeling good. I mean no longer was I the whitest woman in America. I was now supermodel tan. I was movie star tan. I was Hawaiian Tropic Tan. I had pulled out my cutest summer frock. I slid my oh so tan feet into my cutest sandals. I pulled my hair up off my shoulders so everyone could see my shimmery summer shoulders. I was summer ready. I then went out. I went out into public. I went out into public where there were lots of other people. I went out into public were there were lots of other people and it was really bright and sunshiny. I went all day strutting my tanned tannishness.

Finally after being out on the town all day I returned to my humble abode and began the process of dinner. I spilled some sauce on my shirt and decided I would go change clothes. I stripped off my blouse and saw the first of them. I had big white splotches all over my arms and stomach. Then I took a hard look at my legs and they also had big white splotches. I turned on the light and looked closer. I was covered in polka dots from head to toe. I had walked all over town, gone to the grocery, visited the mall and had even been to the nail salon. I turned my hands over and looked at them. The palms of my hands were orange. My feet were orange and around my knees were orange and my ankles looked like someone had taken a paintbrush of red mud and painted my legs. Yes I was a vision of loveliness.