Here’s the thing about having a tan: I know it’s bad for you. I know it prematurely ages you and turns your skin to pleather. But damn if it doesn’t also make you look like you made a deal with the devil and promised to have his babies. At least for a while… you know, the short period referred to as Your 20’s and otherwise referred to as That Time Before Your Skin Turns to Pleather.
I mean REALLY, I had maybe two hours of sleep last night and spent less than 5 minutes getting ready this morning. Normally, such behavior would result in a visage that looks distinctly similar to creatures found a few thousand feet below the ocean’s surface. You think I’m joking but you, more than likely, have never had the joy of being confronted with such a sight. For that, you are welcome. I do my small part to watch out for the good of humanity. Under normal, un-tanned circumstances, watching out for the good of humanity involves a small amount of spackle and a prolonged meeting with my heretofore unmentioned weapon of choice: the eyelash curler. After a week of sitting on the beach, I can pretty much run a comb through my hair and walk out the door. It’s positively lovely.
I realize that by stating this out loud I am tempting God to smack me with a healthy does of humility. Accordingly, I would not be the least bit surprised if immediately following this posting I develop a massive zit in the middle of my forehead. One that future generations will refer to as That Thing.
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Editors Note: I was wearing SPF 30 for the majority of the week and reapplying regularly. So no, I have not forgotten the German dermatologist who scared the living shit out of me at the age of 16 and made me promise to always, always wear sunscreen. Apparently I have mole-prone skin. In case you were wondering, according to Der Doktor, mole-prone skin is A VERY BAD THING.
