As I type this I am trying not to touch my keyboard with my wrists, standing, naked, in the kitchen. It’s a good thing that I am constantly fighting for the heater to be at 75, or sneaking it on whenever I can, or I would not be able to get such a great tan…. You see, I am the whitest person I know. That being said, I don’t know any albino people. If I did I wouldn’t be able to make such a claim. I am so white, you can see my veins running through my body, people mistake me for Casper the magical ghost, I could totally pass for a Twilight vampire… I’m pasty as fuck. So, for most of my teenage years I have done my research on sunless tanners. The real sun hurts my skin and turns me into a freckle face freak and also gives me skin cancer- so I stick with the bottled up sun. Of course I wonder if thats going to give me cancer too, because I’m literally smothering my entire body with something that changes the color of my skin, but there’s no proof, so I will live in a state of denial. Like a pregnant lady in the 1940’s smoking a cig and drinking scotch.
I started sunless tanning when I was like 15. I still had braces and wore “so-cal” clothes with skirts that were so short the pockets stuck out the bottom and white platform sandals (I still don’t understand the science or appeal behind those things). I have proof, pictures, that will never be seen by anyone because they are so embarrassing. It seems that every fake tan I’ve ever gotten is on camera. It’s like – hey something important in your life is happening, make sure your skin looks like an old dusty leather sofa! Anyway, I’ve become rather fake tanner savvy, I’ve done various professional tans (from booth to person staring at my boobs with a cold air blowy thing) and I’ve done various bottled ones (from 5$ to 50$)… What’s my conclusion? Nothing. It doesn’t matter. My skin will inevitably, without fail, absorb all of the pigment and turn into a tabby cat shade of orange. So… fuck it. I’d rather look like I’m wearing an orange spandex body suit than be so white you can see the blood pulsing through my veins and more importantly, my cottage cheese thighs and stretch marks. Everything looks better tan, even if “tan” means “a variation of orange and golden retriever”.
I tan now because Vegas happens on Saturday morning. We’re headed out at like 6 am, the wedding is at 4pm. Here’s my plan. I’m going to do my hair and makeup Friday night. Like full out “Toddlers and Tiaras” hair and makeup. I’m even bringing my flipper and extensions… (ok maybe I’m kidding about the flipper, hehe)… then I’m going to load up on Benadryl and wakeup 6 hours later in a hotel room. That might sound like someone else’s worst nightmare, but that’s what I’m shooting for. Total memory annihilation. It’s gonna be grand, enjoyable even. Here’s to hoping I find the right concoction of tranquilizing drugs to keep me sedated for those hours… we know that hospital’s can’t figure it out… So I’ll give it a go! All kidding aside, I promise not to accidentally overdose on OTC allergy med’s or force Louie to divorce me by annoying him for 6 hours.
Speaking of Louie…. He’s had the entire week, save Monday and this coming Friday, off of work. He found out Monday that he needed to use all of his vacation days he saved up from last year by the first quarter of the year. That first quarter ends on Friday! What a fun week it has been. We’ve spent some time with his parents, my parents and with each other. It’s been exactly what we need. Even though we got in a fight about vacuuming the floor and I beat him up because he told me his work girlfriend could kick my ass. Uuhhh… sorry honey, but just because she was a “secret security guard” for Nordstrom’s and you think she’s “scrappy” doesn’t mean she could take on my crazy strong biceps.
We also watched some movies together, one of them being Mortal Combat. Sometimes I mistake my husband to be.. how do I say.. boring? Boring. Right. Well, I forget that he’s really just a 10 year old boy trapped in a big boy body and forced to sit in an office all day. It was truly a treat to watch him watch this movie. It was like getting a front row seat to his inner workings, it was adorable, and also very manly and whatever else I probably should say about my big strong husband.
One Christmas I was sitting around the dinner table with Louie’s family, we were talking about old videos of our childhood. It was brought to my attention that there is a video somewhere of Louie in a white Power Ranger outfit at probably 7 years old. A few months later, his amazing mother (whom I adore- I know! Crazy! I hit the in-law jackpot, and I am being completely honest), located said video. We watched it together. It was like gold. I could not stop laughing, smiling or being generally over-the-moon giddy at seeing Louie acting like a Power Ranger and jumping in the air for a finale high karate kick. It was amazing. Later I found out that he was in Karate until someone punched him in the face- then he was like, “fuck this I’m out” (my words, not his) and became the best baseball player I’ve ever seen.
Anyways, I’m picking up my slutty vampire dress I plan on wearing to the wedding and getting my nails done with one of my most favorite people in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD, Megan.. or Megany, as I like to call her. Everything in my life is prefaced with a WWMD attitude… “What Would Megan Do?” and then I consider what she’d do and try to make that choice. Pretty much she’s like Jesus to me.