Its an illness,
I have yet to find a cure.
I have carried this affliction for over ten years, battled with it in private and shown the scars to the public; they have never understood. They mock me at times, they simply don’t understand.
Through the winter months I can disguise my condition, I can hide the paleness in my face with a good blush, so I look like everyone else.
Then summer hits, punching me in the adobe with a fury, and the symptoms begin…
First I begin to see my difference to everyone else. On the first day the sun rises high in the sky society alters the trends. Out go jeans and sweaters and in come short shorts, skirts and vest tops. Oh and the colour; it is not even midday on the suns first visit and women eat lunch in the park crossing their tanned legs, picking at pasta with their brown slender fingers. Builders peel off their shirts to reveal super tanned torsos, even the kids in the street under the care of Factor 50 break out in darn cute freckles.
My illness looks at the sun and weeps, then I know what has to be done.
Reluctantly I drag my pale wintry body to Boots; I fumble round the aisles reading an explosion of advertising:
“Streak free” “no running” “natural looking” “guaranteed not to stain” “airbrush” “spray on” “mitts” “remover”
The words threaten to over power me but the illness takes control and I know I can do this.
I suffer from the mistaken belief that I can apply fake tan well. I have a terminal case.
Hands shaking in anticipation I hand over the items to the cashier,
Hand mitt
Body Scrub
Salt scrub
Airbrush legs canister
Tan for face
Body shimmer cream
I hand over a month’s rent and run home clutching the white plastic bag to my chest with a maniacal grin on my face.
Once home I scour my body, removing at least 4lbs worth of dead skin. Then I begin to paint myself.
The feeling of the tan spreading across my blank canvass causes me to sing with joy. I spray my back giving the bathroom sink a bit of colour, I take care on my ankles, knees and elbows and am sparing with the amount on my face. I then wash my hands as if they had been immersed in cow dung for the last thirty minutes…
That evening I bask in the new glow of my slowly bronzing body. I know I have won, I have beaten the disease; I can apply fake tan.
The morning comes and I fly out of bed to greet the sun, knowing she will shine upon my brown arms and legs.
The sun gazes upon me and then rushes off to hide behind a cloud.
I turn to the mirror, as I do every single fecking year and realise I have not beaten anything.
My legs have orange bands hugging round the ankles, then they turn a perfect shade of bronze except for one immaculate streak of white running from bikini line to toe. My elbows are paler than milk and my arms a rusty orange. My stomach is spot on; but really who gives a feck, as a larger lady no one but me is ever going to see it. My eyebrows look like sunburnt slugs and an unsightly brown line works its way around my jaw.
My hands?
They look like they have been immersed in cow dung for thirty minutes.
I have an illness; please don’t mock me…
There is your problem right there, you havent dealt with your illness with the right medication.
A liberal coating of body moisturiser all over before hand.
Hand mitt
Body Scrub
Salt scrub
MOISTURISER
Airbrush legs canister
Tan for face
Body shimmer cream
Oh dear, I need to come back and sort you out – I am on the next plane this is an emergency.
will put the kettle on
This is what Maxi dresses were invented for. No need to fake tan the legs – and no need to even shave them. Perfect.
just not made for me
I think you’re living in the wrong place. Most of the mums at our school gate are orange all year round. One advised me pityingly that Sun Shimmer Bronzer is every girl’s best friend. Since I can’t even apply lip stick straight, I prefer to remain grey and bristled, though, but I do have one piece of advice. I learnt from an expert at Thurrock Services the secret of getting spray tan of a lav seat: lemon juice.
*snorts*
Aged 15 I experienced the same but being 15 I didn’t prepare at all. My orange palms and bright orange knee’s that looked like I had stuck a couple of orange halves on me, whilst sitting on the bus to school scarred me SO much I have never gone near the stuff again. Which is why I love Molly’s comment as I am a maxi dress girl where no-one needs to see the glare of my lily white legs 😀 x
I just dont have the breasts for a maxi dress
Oh no ….. I once had a go with fake tan, and it was awful …. I looked terrible …. never again. That was a really great post – very funny!
thanks x x
There is an up side you know – when I turn old my easily tanned skin which rarely burns, has seen far too much sun and been the envy of those who don’t go brown, will be as wrinkled and revolting as old leather and yours will be all silky smooth and young looking! 🙂
I have never yet been described as youthful – so I love you
have you tried tan wipes? they’re easy peasy and the best bit is that they can be used to write messages on sleeping husbands bodies …..
Oh wow…the things we can do with fake tan wipes!! LOVED the post, LOVE this comment…hilarious x
Thanks
LOVE THIS
I have given up. I have an unopened packet of tan wipes in a drawer somewhere, and several pairs of summer-weight jeans 🙂
hehehehe!
Haha. Thanks for the giggle. I am one of those annoying naturely tanned people, thanks to my mother’s Mediterranean genes. However, I have fumbled around with fake tan in my teenage days and I would like to know if anyone has ever figured out how to do it streak free.
Humph #thatisall
I tried one of those gradual tanning moisturisers. After one application my feet and knees looked like I had trudged 50 miles through the Aussie outback on all fours.
Ha, good to know am not alone
Pay someone.
wise words