Fake tan. Does it make you think of sticky, smelly, orange ickiness? A person who is Dorito colored? Orange on your sheets? Snooki? Yeah, me, too. And I've done it all. After spending the first 22 years of my life swimming competitively, lifeguarding, and laying out with no sunscreen, my wrinkles and 8 removed moles have convinced me that it's time to be over all that. I still can't reconcile being this many pounds overweight and this white, though. Let's face it. Tan fat is not quite as unattractive as white fat, it's just how it is. It's unfortunate that white and fat doesn't signify wealth and status like it did in the Victorian days. Well, anyway, I decided to try a spray tan. 'Cause there is nothing like standing in your unmentionables in a super bright room being spray painted by a stranger. But! The results are nice! At least I think so. I'm only a few hours in and I can't shower the top layer off until the morning so I'm a tad darker than I will be tomorrow (so I've been told) but it's golden, not bronze. It's brown, not orange. I'm pleased! We have a few spring functions that I may redo this for, I'll see how it wears this week. This was kind of my dry run.
Vain? Yes. Waste of $40? Maybe. Will Chris notice when he sees me tomorrow? No.
As my friend Kristin said, "Holy shitballs! You're hella dark!" and I responded, "No, I was just hella white!"
And yes, we do talk to each other like that. What's it to ya?