Monday, April 12, 2010

Fake n’ Bake, or au naturale?

I chose fake n’ bake.

In an effort to have some one on one time with Mom No. 2 (my future Mother in Law), she arranged for us to have a nice leisurely, enjoyable experience at a local tanning salon.

This wasn’t my first rodeo.  I’ve been tanning before, and yes, while I usually require my hand being held and step-by-step instructions on how to get in and out of the bed without injuring myself, I’ve never been one to go frequently. 

Whenever the word “tanning” comes to mind, I simply cannot bring myself to throw down $15 for a tan and an additional $60 for a bottle of lotion, just so I can look like this:

I take my skin seriously (said the girl with white-out lines on her skin).  I’m not a fan of closing myself in a bed – for fear of breaking the bed and burning to death.   I’m not tanning bed trained and I am a liability.  If someone tells me “You should do well for 8 minutes” and throws a bronzer at me, promising golden skin – I believe them. 


Millions of women do this.  Some are professionals.  I’m a rookie.  Anything claiming to make me beautiful should be a dead giveaway that I should run away fast and not look back.  But I didn’t, because a quick dip in the artificial light sounded like a good time.

I took the free bronzer, my borrowed goggles and my idiot brain to my room and felt good about the fact that I too, was going to look like the 20-something blonde, at the counter, that exuded ‘high maintenance’.

I lathered up and climbed into the bed – and spent the next 8 minutes doing the robot with my arms to make sure I didn’t leave any white stripes anywhere.  The first 4 minutes were very relaxing – however by minute 5, I was ready to bail. 

I burned. 

Eight minutes in a tanning bed and I look like I spent all day on an aluminum boat with Crisco on my skin.  Nothing says “sexy” like bright red skin and the inability to stand being touched.  

It’s now day 3 since I baked myself, and I still cannot wear pants, shirts or take a shower without belting out obscenities. 

Mom No. 2 had a much better experience than I did.  Most women would.  I’m the exception.  If it’s “girly” and there is some “guarantee” that I’ll look gorgeous, chances are, it’s not meant for me. 

I enjoy being in the sun, and I enjoy going tanning, on occasion.  However I do not enjoy being the stupid girl that can’t sit down without a donut pillow because her ass is burned. 

My fiancé asked me “Why didn’t you at least cover up your breasts?” 

“Because I didn’t want tan lines.” You know, because I frequent the streets and my local Wal-Mart, naked.

He says to me, “Well you could have worn pasties.”

Now to a woman who looks like a 12-year old boy trapped in 33-year old’s body, pasties would not have worked.  Not even the strongest of super-glues could keep them on. 

While I appreciate the concern, red gingersnaps, are the least of my worries. 

Should I venture into the world of tanning beds and bronzing lotions again, I will wear a bikini top and bottoms, and will more than likely ask the nice girl to limit my playtime to 5 minutes, rather than 8.  

Either that, or buy a bottle of fake sun.  After all, orange is the new bronze. Right?


  1. The photo of the tan girl looks like a lost cast member from CATS, only she's the RAT DOG. Don't go that far, turn back, save your beautiful skin.

  2. lol...great post. what an experience. best of luck with the recovery and future bronzing activities.

  3. nbnimble: I love it! I lost it when I found this pic. Words simply cannot describe her - eh - yeah. Nevermind.

    Okie: thank you, future bronzing trips will be few and far between I'm afraid. Pale skins UNITE!

  4. Your fiance calls them breasts? That's so cute! And, like, respectful, or something.

    I gotta say I like the tanning bed. But 8 minutes? I don't know what your skin is like, but starting out with 8 minutes would set me on fire. The spray tan stuff, believe it or not, is much improved, too. Not quite as Oompa-Loompa as it used to be.


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