This is the season when pale people everywhere try to get a tan. The palest of us try to spend time outdoors, but our dermatologists have warned us to slather our bodies with sunscreen, so we return as pasty as we started. Science can be a real party-pooper.
We’re the ones who have to guard against skin cancer. I had a mole removed (turned out to be benign) from the back of my neck last week, and I told St. Bob he was now on Wound Watch. “It’s the same as Baywatch,” I said. “Except it stars old ladies.”
Some people get a spray tan. BUT… I tried this once and the brown mist gathered in my wrinkles and emphasized my crow’s feet.
Many of us rub tanning gel over our exposed parts, and this works until you exfoliate in the shower, and you have to start all over again.
My only hope is that society will circle around, as it sometimes does, and worship pale skin again, like in those Victorian Era paintings. In those days, paleness meant you had a life of leisure, never needing to work outside in the blistering heat.
Today, a tan indicates the same thing—you have all kinds of free time to lie around and bake your body to a dark tan, while the rest of us are working away indoors.
You just never know when the
whole world is going to flip a coin.
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