As another summer weekend is quickly approaching full of bikini’s, shorts, and summer dresses, I sink into my usual depression. My iridescent, glow in the dark, you-can-see-my-pores-they’re-so-white, legs come to mind and how I can mask their blinding aura.
I feel like this all comes from 14 years of playing soccer and wearing shin guards and socks up to my knees and all skin cells capable of receiving a tan were killed along with my dreams of Olympic greatness…
I’ve tried tanning beds which give me a nice bronzen glow from the mid-thigh up.
I’ve tried spray tans and gel tans and cream tans and use-them-over-time-and-eventually-you’ll-get-tan lotion tans and I get streaks, orange, or continued pastiness.
The only thing that has ever seemed to work was a bottle of Sally Hansen “Airbrush Legs, Leg Makeup” that a friend of mine had bought to give her the fake, dramatic look for a Jersey Shore party. It took putting on makeup for legs to finally achieve any sense of tan on my lower extremities. But of course, after a drunken night in a sweaty club and an impromptu trip down to the beach in San Diego, the tan washed away like the lingering respect Italians have for Americans will after the Jersey Shore films their newest season there.
I know I shouldn’t care. I know that there is a certain level of elegance in rocking the fair complexion, Snow White thing, but I do that September-May. Why can’t I have a kick ass head to toe tan just for a few months. I don’t even want to look ethnic, I just don’t want to look sick. Is that too much to ask?!?! Apparently, because come 5:00, I’m stripping off these jeans and throwing on a miniskirt, so you better be clad with dark sunglasses, in case my blinding legs come your way.