by Jeannie Hixson
posted July 2, 2008
Well, it is that time of year again. Time when people flock to the tanning beds in order to tan their fat. All women know that tan fat is supposed to look better than white fat. Being that I am a redhead, I am cursed with the albino looking skin. If I sit in the sun for even a brief moment, then I can literally feel my skin burning.
When we go to the beach, I am the moron sitting under the umbrella wearing the T-shirt and SPF 50. When I do get up to take a dip in the water, people stare and then nod their heads as if to let me know that I am forgiven since I am redheaded. I am telling you, Casper has nothing on me.
Sun screen has actually come a long way. When I was a kid in the 70’s there were no invisible sunscreens. I spent my childhood with a white paste, known as zinc oxide, painted over the bridge of my nose. All I needed was a floral swim cap and I would be set for the ultimate pool loser. I was in love with a boy named Chris at the neighborhood pool and would wipe the white paste off as soon as I left the watchful eye of my Mother, the nurse. I can still hear my mother say “Well, if you go to the pool without the zinc oxide then one day you are NOT going to have a nose. You decide, but do you want to have no nose?” I remember thinking that the nose was a pretty important anatomical part of the face so I complied. Looking back, I wonder what she would have done if I told her that I was going to go ahead and risk it since I didn’t think the nose was all that necessary.
I am married to a man who has the ability to get very tan. I have warned him that this year we are hiring the beach photographer (white shirts, khaki pants) to take our picture and I would prefer that we come out looking like we are the same race. Last time the family photo was taken the only thing looking white on him were his teeth, and I looked ready to be embalmed.
People who tan get quite obsessed about it. They oil up like a Thanksgiving turkey, move their chairs around to face the sun to maximize their exposure and settle back for the cooking. They get upset if the tan “fades” or heaven forbid if they peal. They act like pealing is a sign of complete defeat. Pealing to them is like losing tiny little bits of ones tan self. These people have what I like to call tanorexia. They tan and tan and get so dark that they have lost all perspective. This is what happens to my husband at the beach.
Tanorexics tell me that the time spent in the tanning bed is so relaxing and peaceful. The last time I was in a tanning bed I decided that I just wanted a little bit of color to my legs. I walked in and they got out the waiver form. This form is obviously made for redheads and they bring it out when the pale people show up. You must sign that the recommended time is 45 seconds and that you are aware that the bulbs are new, that the cancer risk is huge and that this is probably not going to turn out well. I got in wearing T-shirt and shorts since I only wanted the chunky legs to get a little slimming from some color. What I didn’t realize was that a little part of my stomach was exposed. I hopped into the ‘coffin of sun’ and lay directly on my stomach. How was I to know that the tender white stomach meat was lying directly on the burner for a full seven minutes?
The fun part about the tanning bed is that when you leave you have no idea that you have been cooked. On the way home I could feel a slight sensation on my belly, but by the time I took a shower that night I could see that the chub roll had been seared well done! I had a huge red mark in a perfect line across my stomach and had to put ointment on it for weeks. Tanning was obviously not meant for me and my legs still looked chunky they were just pink and chunky.
I want the kind of tanning bed that takes me from pale Oompa Loompa legs to golden brown super model legs in 10 minutes or less.
If that could happen, then I would develop a bad case of tanorexia in an instant.
Jeannie Hixson
greenbeanjean@comcast.net
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