I've been tanning.
I know, I know, it's TOTALLY unhealthy. But as I go to the lake most summer Saturdays with Banshee & Co., as well as hang out by a friend's pool on Sunday afternoon, I've become a smidgen on the George Hamilton side. In fact, during our weekly department meeting an hour ago, someone made that comparison.
Thankfully, Mr. Hamilton's not an unattractive gentleman. But I do realize he's about as brown as my Mamaw Walter's naugahyde couch. (Quick brag: I actually spelled "naugahyde" correctly the first try. It's the little things that feed my vague sense of accomplishment.)
Anyway, I think I have the tanning equivalent of body dysmorphic disorder. Even though I'm looking a bit browner than I should, sometimes I look in the mirror and think, "I'm pale." That's some scary stuff -- especially considering it's been several years since my last mole check. Feel free to slap me when you see me -- just be gentle. Or buy me a margarita, we'll call it good.
I use sunscreen (that no-rub Coppertone stuff, SPF 15 -- love it, even though a bottle only lasts me a weekend and a half). As long as I'm in the sun, though, I might as well be shellacking myself with Pam -- preferably butter flavor. Mmm ...
Silliness aside, I can't shake the fear that I'm potentially burning myself to death. I mean, when more than a dozen people comment on your tan in a three-hour period, that's gotta be bad.
To ween myself off the sun, I'm thinking about trying out this product that came in the mail today: Dex New York Body Glow. I'll try it out and let you know how it goes -- not sure where it's available in Tulsa, if at all. For $45, it better be good. I'm just excited because I won't have to rub it in. Hmm, maybe I should address my laziness, too.
So be careful out in the sun, kids. Like my daddy said, do as I say, not as I do. Or something like that.
Peace, love and Olympically bronzed skin ... xoxo
