Like I'm working on getting used to a life without a tan.
Me and my affinity for a bronzed glow has taken me on many paths.
At 14, I tried my first tanning bed.
At 15, I ordered one, with my dad's credit card. Without his consent. And had it delivered to my families mobile home.
(that story, above, is 1000% truth. My mom still receives catalogs for tanning bulbs.)
At 16, we (my friends and I) skipped school to go to the lake. Where we were convinced that drinking vodka and water would have you both intoxicated and hydrated. And smearing baby oil all over ourselves guaranteed the best tan.
At 18, I knew everything: That the winning trifecta of hotness was a combination of overly tanned skinned, overly bleached hair, and neon pink nail polish.
Then I proclaimed I would marry a guy with 'darkly tanned skin and great last name'
Photo of my son, V and my husband. This August in Greece. I wanted a tanned husband so I could have tanned kids. Obvia V got a hefty deal of melanocytes in his 1/4 Greek heritage.
At 22, with two small children and a pool in my backyard, I knew that I would need to take more precautions with my skin. So I decided every other year I would wear sunblock through the summer.
Hey, some is better than none, right?
Between the years of 26-29 I was Neutrogenas Dry Block unofficial spokesperson. I wore 55 spf daily and had moved to a climate that didn't support year long accessories involving sunglasses. I was a slave to my skin and had made it my passion to make up for the wear and tear of yesteryear.
This summer I threw my hands in a the air and proclaimed it a Year of Tanness.
I went without a spec in St.Maarten, in Texas, the swim team season in Jersey and an entire month in Greece.
I was rocking a wicked tan. Greece, August 2010
The day before we left the most amazing place on earth, I spied sun spots in the overly magnified mirror. The next day, on the plane home, I laid my head on Tony's shoulder and thanked him for the awesome summer we had. He leaned his head onto mine and turned to look at my face and said
"What are those spots?"
I have sun spots. They are not pretty. I already have a face of moles and freckles. I reap the benefit of being allergic to domesticated animals that doesn't present in the ways of hay fever, but rather chronic eye circles-all the while I refuse to not have a dog. I have lines in my forehead that I prefer to have plumped.
Facials. Peels. HydroxyacidictoxinOHMY. Botox. Restylane. NO SUN. EVER. NOT EVER AGAIN.
Good by to the days of a beautiful bronzed glow and feeling the heat on my skin after a winter of dreaded snow. I fear I will look like Joan Rivers when its all through.
