Confessions of a (recovering) Sun Worshiper

It has been snowing all day long.

I've spent most of the day on the couch with F, watching movies and occasionally glancing out the window and wistfully dreaming of summer. And tanning. Laying in the sun, basking in the glow and the warmth and the awesome. It won't be summer for a long time. That's why there's tanning beds though, right? You lay in the bed and feel the warmth and you just soak it all up and have 15 minutes of summertime anytime.

Except that I forced myself to give up tanning. 

And it hasn't been easy. I'm beginning to tire juuuuuust a little bit from the Oh my gosh, you're so pale comments because then I have to be all Sorry, I naturally look like a vampire and was willingly subjecting myself to premature aging and skin cancer so that I looked normal and then shit gets awkward, yo. 

But seriously. Tanning was kind of like cigarettes to me (and there's a habit I really don't need to kick again). I loved laying in the bed for my 15 minutes of warmth and seeing my tan lines form. Until I started noticing that my bronzed skin was getting a little, ahem, speckle-y to the point that my beloved freckles were becoming rather large spots and I was seeing laugh lines even when I'm not laughing. And that's about the time I realized that I was fast-fowarding my skin to being 60 before I hit 30, and ain't nobody got time for that.

So I quit. Cold turkey. I marched my bronzed self to a Shopper's Drug Mart around the corner and I bought sunscreen, and a Retin-A cream and I vowed to take better care of my skin. The same way I vowed to put out that last cigarette. The same way I make the decision to eat well and exercise. And kind of like my efforts to stay thin-ish and (almost) in shape, it was my vanity that led me both in and out of that tanning bed.I decided I needed to take it one step further though, and I put all of my self-tanner in a box and put it away because I think the root of my problem lies in that I didn't feel pretty without a tan. 

And I still kind of don't. But I will.

And I will continue to miss the summertime sun and the warmth. But in just a few months, my sunscreen and I will hit the beach again. And I'll enjoy my book in the grass, and build castles in the sand and protect my skin the way I should have in the first place.

Lacy

Feeling pretty is important.

Regardless of whether I’m going to work, school or the grocery store, I like to feel good. While I don’t usually pile on makeup, I’ll throw on some lip gloss or mascara and try to make myself look presentable. I think it’s important to feel good about yourself whenever possible, and while I have more hang ups than an art gallery, I usually get the job done by wearing clothes/jewelry/shoes/whatever that make me feel pretty.

It is for this reason and this reason alone that I own a lot of pretty underwear. Any woman will tell you, pretty underwear make you feel pretty. Unfortunately for my butt, it can also leave you looking absolutely effing hilarious.

Before you hop on your soapbox and lecture me about the dangers of tanning, let me assure you that I’m well aware of the research, findings and warnings that are associated with tanning. But, like wearing my fancy underpants, it makes me feel really good and it also helps me clear up some of the problems I have with my skin – so I do it. ‘Nuff said.

Even when laying (or standing) in a bed at a tanning salon, I absolutely refuse to go nudie. If you’ve ever had a sunburnt ass, you know why. I pack a pair of bikini bottoms in my purse any time I know I’m dropping into the salon across the street from work to make sure I’ve got full-bottom coverage.

Except for last week when I forgot. And then, in a moment of pure brilliance I decided to wear the lacy underwear I happened to be wearing into the tanning bed. Everything was fine and dandy when I got out. I wiped the tanning lotion off, rubbed some moisturizer in and ran across the street to finish my day at work.

My first mistake was using tingle-y lotion. I sat at work for 2 hours with itchy arms and legs, but the itch wore off around quitting time so I figured I was in the clear. The rest of the afternoon went by like any other, but as evening set in I started to get increasingly uncomfortable so I decided to have a bath. My itchy arms, legs, belly and back had long since gone but I had a new, super-annoying itch.

My butt cheeks.

I got undressed for my bath and decided to check myself out, and that’s when I saw it: a delicate, floral lace pattern sunburned onto my otherwise pasty-white ass. Red laughed at me, and the redness stuck around for about 3 days before fading to a light brown.

Lace patterns on my butt are best left to overpriced undergarments, it would appear.

Oh, and that tingly lotion sticks around: just ask Red about how red he was post-snuggles when I forgot I had it on. Oops!