After a long debate with my multiple personalities over the past couple of weeks we finally came to a unanimous decision. Having half a dozen different tan lines and then sporting a bathing suit is not pretty. For everyone. The scary part here would be that as one’s eye moves closer to the core or pretty much the area surrounding the bathing suit, it gets shockingly whiter and whiter. Think nicely tanned lower limbs and vampire white parts where the shorts and tank top would normally sit. With that visual in mind, and my sudden realization that in a very short time I am going to begrudgingly have to put a bathing suit on, I decide its time to take immediate action. I gotta tan up the white bits. The struggle here is that I am not a fan of lying around in the sun. When I do get to the beach I am lucky if I get to lounge in the sun for 5 solid minutes. (“throw the Frisbee, lets get ice cream, lets throw rocks in the water, lets build a sandcastle”…… yadda yadda, you get the drift). So I have decided to hit the tanning beds! Honestly, I chuckled to myself all the way there. The lady who owns the tanning salon that I go to (ok, I have only been there once before) is a totally cute, non-barbie who sports a sunkissed suntan look, not the Raisonenette look one would expect from someone who is among bright tanning beds all day. I know she is going to feel my pain and has most likely seen this kind of tragedy before. I explain to my new bff that I have Capri lines, board short lines, a teeny bit shorter than the board short lines, t-shirt lines and 12 different tank top lines, she smiles with the kinda knowledge that only a trained professional knows. That and I am reeking of desperation. All I needed to tell her was that in a weeks time I will be forced to put on a bathing suit and be in front of people and I do not want to be the cause of any future psychiatrist sessions so I need to even up the Tanning Plaid I have going on.
I’m not looking for the Jen Lancaster homeless person tan here. I’m thinking more like Okanagan Orchard Picker or maybe the more subtle California Lifeguard. Whatever it takes. So I happily hand over my credit card and Ms. Cute Tahiti sets me up with a whole 8 minutes of tanning fun. Bring. It.
As I leave I hold back from asking if I can come back in an hour. That would seem a little bit OCD don’tcha think?
Business Savvy Side Bar - I will be writing a little note to the makers of the sunny coffin’s to request that they start putting money into researching creating a tanning bed that also heats up and eliminates cellulite. Now that’s a money maker! If it happens and it gets huge – you read it here first.
Vampire side note – don’t you think if the Cullen’s had hit the tanning beds just a teeny bit they would not have looked so pasty and might have not looked like albino outcasts with red lipstick? Synthetic sun can’t mess with a vampire can it? Not like garlic pizza!
