…because I am embarrassed. I have the worst case of sunburn in recent memory.
When I was young, before there was talk of depleting ozone layers and melanoma, my 14-year-old self would slather on baby oil and bake in the sun. When I was 30 years old, I would visit a tanning salon to acquire a ‘base tan’ before spending days baking under the Mediterranean sun. Born with a more olive-toned hue to my skin, what would normally reduce most fair-skinned people and redheads into ashes gave me a few days of mild discomfort. All for that glowing, sun-kissed, California Girl look.
But old, harmful habits die hard. While I don’t “suntan” anymore, I still do silly things, like slathering on tanning oil with a low SPF of 4. Or sitting in extraordinarily hot sunshine for hours with no coverage. I tell myself that since I’m not at the beach in a bikini lying in the sun for hours, it doesn’t count. <facepalm>
So, I suffer for my stupidity, if not for beauty.
If you see a woman on the street whose knees and chest are vibrant red, feel free to laugh. Hopefully, I can be shamed into smartness.
