Look, let’s face the facts. Pale and pasty isn’t the best look for many of us. I’m Irish. A European mutt of sorts. I’m white; incredibly white. A white canvas of encroaching age spots and freckles. I’m in my mid 30’s. Crepe paper skin and wrinkles are rapidly transforming my body. The extra weight, pressure, and poor circulation from 3 pregnancies have left a graveyard of broken capillaries and blood vessels on the backs of my legs. I realize of course that I am perfectly imperfect but that doesn’t change the fact that every so often these imperfections leave me feeling less than adequate. The sex appeal equivalent to that of a worn out dish rag if you will. This is where my bottle of magic and miracle trickery comes in. Call it whatever you want. Flaw fixer, cellulite concealer, or crease and crinkle camouflage. For me, sunless tanning lotion is the shit.
I exit the shower, dry off and slather it on. I morph into somewhat of a contortionist and smear it over every inch of myself. Even strokes all over that naked body. I apologize if you just threw up in your mouth from that visual, but my point it to be thorough and for God’s sakes wash your hands afterwards. Wash. Your. Hands!! Or you will be left with an obnoxiously conspicuous carrot like hue for 2-4 days. Beware the overzealous and impatient ‘glow getter’! This is meant to be a gradual change. In other words, don’t get too hasty or your whole body could take on a Oompa Loompa ‘esqe’ tone.
I will never step foot into a tanning booth again. Carelessness in my early twenties has left me with skin cancer removal surgery on my face. I’m honest with myself. I am susceptible to cancer and I can no longer afford to bake in the actual blistering sun, let alone the artificial bulb generated sun. My ten-dollar bottle of foaming tanning lotion is the only option from here on out. I still want to look somewhat like a sexy beast, is that a crime? Last I checked, thin and veiny wasn’t the most attractive way to describe a woman…or a penis. This sunless savior aids in the illusion that things are still very much “high and tight” and fabricates a much more desirable regard for my stick like gams. My grisly feet, once boney and gangly are now remodeled into slightly tolerable. The skeletal frame that is my body has gotten it’s sexy back with just a little color. Ten dollars well spent wouldn’t you say?
White lies never hurt anyone right? I say it’s my natural Southern California glow, that this sun kissed look is standard but let’s get real. If it drops below 70 degrees, I’m in pants and long sleeves. Not much sun exposure happening for this old broad, yet my “glow” remains. Conspiracy? no. Color in a can? Yes.