I'll take an 'H' for holes, please.
With the coming of summer comes the appearance and importance of The Tan. Especially when you live in Canada, where summer weather is at an all-time premium.
I'm sure you all do this at home, with your family and friends. As the warm weather progresses, you begin comparing tans. Of course you do.
I was committed to winning The Tan Wars in our house this year. Every year, I seem to lose, even against the dog. Let's just say I don't tan all that well. I just burn. Burn, then peel, then freckle. Part of the problem is obviously the fact that I don't sit out in the sun in the first place. I'm afraid of something called Cancer. Especially skin cancer, because that would just suck, getting huge holes in your flesh and all that.
In our house, Em and Mr. Handsome seem to get the best tans, without even trying. It's like they decide it's time for summer, and they come home half an hour later glowing like the sun. Must be nice.
In an effort to win the battle this year, seeing as I'm stuck inside most of the time studying chemistry and biology and fretting about how in the hell I'm going to manage all this and a tan, I decided to give myself a healthy glow the fake way, with fake tanning lotion. So, for the past few days, I've been slathering this:
onto my skin in an effort to look all sun-kissed and dewy without all the effort, and the cancer.
But what the fake tanning people don't tell you is that you have to be extremely careful during the slathering process, lest you are even the least bit uneven in the process of application of said fake tanning lotion.
Case in point:
I did everything you told me to do on the back of your bottle, and yet you deceive me. This tan is as fake as fake gets, guys! It's like I dipped my arms in a vat of cheap barbeque sauce, and then licked half of it off, so that there's a very explicit and definite line on my arms, one half tanned, the other half as white as unused toilet paper, or Mr. Handsome's butt.
Obviously, I'm now going to have to take precious time out of my
grooming studying to rectify the situation, or else wear long-sleeved shirts all summer long. Which might not be such a bad idea in the first place, seeing as I now also have Old Lady Arms, with the flesh simply hanging off my upper arms, waving in the wind.
Holes in my flesh might be more desirable at this point.