It has been 00:00:14:25 since my last shaving incident.
I like to kick of the warmer weather in style, like with an arterial bleed. With all the hype around vampire media, blood is the new black right? But shaving is not the biggest of my springtime worries. Well, if my ankle doesn't stop gushing soon it might become a priority issue. I mean that tissue isn't doing the trick and I can't find the bandaids! What kind of mother doesn't know where the bandaids are in her own house? The kind that bleeds to death, that's what.
Really my concern lies with coloring. Springtime in Louisiana is more like summer near the equator. It gets spicier than flamin' hot cheetos and long pants are not an option unless you fancy yourself having a heatstroke by 9 a.m. Unfortunately, my complexion is a half-tint above ghostly.
And before you get judgey and assume I'm just any other white-girl of Irish decent and lack the gene necessary for tanning, let me tell you that I could probably go outside for 15 minutes and come back a nice, roasty, goldenness. But like all things in my life, karma is ready to kick me square in me Irish arse and my downfalls are two-fold:
1) My tan will only last a matter of hours. Seriously, a magic marker would stay on longer. Unless I'm planning on standing outside all day in my skivvies, a long-lasting option it ain't.
2) I had a scare with the big C regarding my skin about 2 years ago. It wasn't a major issue, but I do have a nasty scar on my back from where my dermatologist removed a chunk out of my back that was the size of a marble. Even if I did keep a tan, it wouldn't be worth going through that again.
Bring on the SPF 1,000,000! I don't really mind being a little pasty in exchange for not dying of cancer. However, people tend to get a little unnerved when they can see the veins and inner workings of my overly transparent legs. Nobody wants to see skin reminiscent of a jellyfish. Now I'm left with self tanners that make me break out or leave streaks and spots where the epidermis is too dry.
Case and point? Back before I was so conscious about skin health, I was planning on tanning the crap out of my body for my wedding. Unfortunately, I was also too ditzy and completely forgot until the week OF my big day to address the issue and had to resort to a Majestic Spray Tan. Worst. Idea. Ever.
I woke up the next day looking African...like a cheetah. There were spots all over my arms! And when I called the salon for a refund, solution, or even advice, the manager tartly stated that I must not have followed the directions (of which I was terrified of not following for utter fear of exactly what happened to me) and that "Well, you're not going to look like the girl in the video." How about not looking like something off a Discovery Channel special? I think we could manage that, right?
Luckily some lemon juice, my mom's Clinique self-tanning lotion, and a few showers got it all sorted out in time to walk down the aisle.
Moral of my story? Wear sunglasses in the next few months when you see me because I will freakin' blind you.
And before you get judgey and assume I'm just any other white-girl of Irish decent and lack the gene necessary for tanning, let me tell you that I could probably go outside for 15 minutes and come back a nice, roasty, goldenness. But like all things in my life, karma is ready to kick me square in me Irish arse and my downfalls are two-fold:
1) My tan will only last a matter of hours. Seriously, a magic marker would stay on longer. Unless I'm planning on standing outside all day in my skivvies, a long-lasting option it ain't.
2) I had a scare with the big C regarding my skin about 2 years ago. It wasn't a major issue, but I do have a nasty scar on my back from where my dermatologist removed a chunk out of my back that was the size of a marble. Even if I did keep a tan, it wouldn't be worth going through that again.
Bring on the SPF 1,000,000! I don't really mind being a little pasty in exchange for not dying of cancer. However, people tend to get a little unnerved when they can see the veins and inner workings of my overly transparent legs. Nobody wants to see skin reminiscent of a jellyfish. Now I'm left with self tanners that make me break out or leave streaks and spots where the epidermis is too dry.
Case and point? Back before I was so conscious about skin health, I was planning on tanning the crap out of my body for my wedding. Unfortunately, I was also too ditzy and completely forgot until the week OF my big day to address the issue and had to resort to a Majestic Spray Tan. Worst. Idea. Ever.
I woke up the next day looking African...like a cheetah. There were spots all over my arms! And when I called the salon for a refund, solution, or even advice, the manager tartly stated that I must not have followed the directions (of which I was terrified of not following for utter fear of exactly what happened to me) and that "Well, you're not going to look like the girl in the video." How about not looking like something off a Discovery Channel special? I think we could manage that, right?
Luckily some lemon juice, my mom's Clinique self-tanning lotion, and a few showers got it all sorted out in time to walk down the aisle.
Moral of my story? Wear sunglasses in the next few months when you see me because I will freakin' blind you.
Today's subject line quote is Alice in Wonderland (2010)
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