So the other day I got out in the sun and got sunburned. Some (revolting) people get out in the sun and turn a nice bronze color. They look like they recently returned from safari. I, however, take the appearance of a boiled beet.
It’s always been that way. I have never been able to tan. In school I was so white that they used to call me Caveboy. Well, that, and my habit of eating raw meat and whacking women on the head so I could carry them away. The underbelly of a toad has more color than I do, although I’m not as green.
Of course, I’m not the only one who suffers this way. I have a couple of friends who are even fairer than me. They are actually capable of blinding other people when the sun reflects off their lily white epidermis.
A tan-disabled friend of mine decided she was tired of being taunted so she went to one of those spray-on tan places. She tried to get me to go with her, but I didn’t. Apparently you stand naked in a booth while a machine sprays you with paint. That sounded like something that could show up on America’s Funniest Home Videos. Besides, being naked where strangers have been naked strikes me as unsanitary.
Anyway, she got her paint job, and it definitely changed her skin color. She now looked vibrant, healthy, and glowing – just like a Florida orange. And I do mean ORANGE. Being the good friend I was, I immediately subjected her to as much ridicule as I could. Fortunately her aim is bad, and we remain friends, although I am careful to never let her get behind me.
So I turn red for a few days, and if that was all that happened, I could handle it. But no, then I have to peel. And I do mean peel. I peel, peel, and peel until you’d think I’m going to peel down to my bones. During this process I look like I should be carrying a sign and ringing a bell to warn people of my leprosy. Eventually I recover and can appear in public without inciting loud cries of horror and fear.
There’s a whole industry in place that caters to people unable to tan. They offer bronzers, enhancers, melanin pills, chrome creams, tanning showers, tanning booths, etc. Billions of dollars are spent to make us look like we spend hours in the sun even though we spend most of our time in front of our TVs watching tanned people do things we will never do.
Just a couple of centuries back in Britain, white skin was considered a mark of the aristocracy. The peasants worked out in the fields and got tanned. Their wealthy rulers stayed inside and married their first cousins. You knew a ruler by the whiteness of his or her skin and if they had any extra toes.
I think they might have something in that. At least the non-tanning part.
Copyright 2009 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. Excerpted from Floozy by Stephen B. Bagley.
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3 comments:
How funny, my hubby and I were just talking about this yesterday morning. I was trying to decide what color tights to wear to church. He asked me why I was wearing them, given that it was warm and sunny, and I said I didn't want to blind people with my reflective legs. I'm not quite that bad (close, but not quite), but it makes a good story.
Bowing to your aristocracy. (But I should make you prove the extra toes thing first...)
I'm blonde, and I can tan, but I don't. This makes me an anomaly since I live in California, but I'm going to look better than everyone else here in my later years. :)
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