Sizzling and baking is a way of life when you have pale, Irish skin. I could wear Coppertone SPF 96,4578 and still walk away with an aura of pink around me on even an overcast day.
Oh to be tan. To wear a white tank top or swimsuit and have it gleam off a golden sunkissed body. That is one of my secret desires, and one that will always (painfully) elude me.
I spent most of teenage years attempting to try and thwart nature. I was determined to get a tan. I slathered up in baby oil and lay out on a plastic chaise lounge for hours at a time in our backyard. How I didn't manage to melt into the blue and white stripes of the lounge, I will never know. It's amazing that I was able to pry myself off the towel at all and be recognized without the use of dental records.
Seeing my blistering red screaming-all-night--whenever-anything-came-in-contact-with-my-ten-degree-sunburn, I was assured by my sunkissed, golden tanned pals as they liberally sprayed Solarcaine, this painful first step was the beginning of a really deep tan. Patience, they intoned. A golden tan will emerge.
Somehow I never got off that first step. The best I managed was an off-white color, more of an eggshell, than beige, that was only visible if I took off my wristwatch.
I did however, manage to keep more freckles coming out on my arms than ever expected and still to this day, I dream, that maybe, through divine intervention, they will melt together on a hot day like today and I will be sunkissed and golden at last.
