The recent sunny weather prompted me to consider my rather pasty winter complexion. A little color might be nice, I thought. But, as I burn very easily, and have no interest in skin cancer, lying out and tanning booths weren’t options. So I did what any pale girl in need of a tan does: I headed to my neighborhood drug store.
There I stood, staring at the daunting rows of golden bottles and boxes, intrigued by their promise to give me a “natural-looking, streak-free sunless tan.” But I knew better, didn’t I? Who could forget the time in high school when I spritzed my legs with self-tanner between classes, only to be greeted by the sight of my orange-streaked legs as I sat in next period’s English class? Or the time I bought an entire self-tanning system complete with pre-tanning exfoliator, special apr?s-tanning lotion and a nifty green applicator mitt. There I had stood, suitably scrubbed down, mitt on and ready to go. I was set. I peered down at the instructions lying at my feet.
“Ok, smooth self-tanning formula onto skin. Sounds easy enough.” I squirted the floral scented brown gel into my handy mitt, and began to rub it into my legs. Everything was going just dandy until I reached my back. Or didn’t, as it were. I tried to reach around and sort of slap the solution onto my back and shoulders, but it wasn’t going very well, judging by what I could glimpse of my reflection in the mirror as I craned my neck behind me. Hmm. I leaned over to consult the instructions. Nothing. I pulled the box toward me with my toe, careful not to smudge my still-wet skin. Empty. They had taken the time to develop a pre-tan exfoliating system, but not a way that a lone tanner could reach his or her own back? Genius. My attempts to reach were futile, and I soon resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn’t have a tan back. But I had picked the “light” solution, so it shouldn’t be all that noticeable, right? Wrong. Morbidly, hideously, wrong. The next morning as I stepped out of bed, I looked down at my positively brown feet. Brown, I tell you. I rushed to the mirror, and it confirmed my mounting terror: I was completely brown (except for my back, of course). As I am a European mutt of French, Swedish, Scottish and English descent, otherwise known as very, very fair skinned, I looked ridiculous. Or like a horribly politically incorrect minstrel revival. Either way, it wasn’t pretty. To add insult to injury, my back looked grotesque and spotted, as though I suffered from some skin discoloration disease. I grabbed the box, and called the customer service number on the back.
“I just woke up, and your product made me brown. Brown!” I shrieked into the phone.
“Ma’am, our product is a self-tanner. That’s what it’s supposed to do.”
“No, I bought the light one. It was supposed to make me one to two shades darker. It says so right here- ‘Provides a natural looking tan up to two shades darker than your skin tone.’ But, I’m like, ten shades darker. Ten!”
“You bought our light system?” the woman asked, stressing the word “system.”
“Yes, and I can’t go out like this. Is there anything I can do to get it off?” I glared at the bottles on my sink as I paced the bathroom floor, careful to avoid my image in the mirror.
“So, you’re saying you’re not happy with the product?”
“Yes! I mean, no. No, I’m not happy. I look ridiculous.” My gaze settled on the pre-tanning exfoliator. Hope peeked through my desperation. “Do you think if I used the exfoliator, it would help get this off my skin?”
“Ma’am, the exfoliator is for use before your tan, not after,” she responded slowly, as though I were an idiot.
“Yes, I know that, but I thought that it might-never mind.” I hung up the phone, grabbing the exfoliator before I jumped in the shower. While I made a valiant effort, the tan unfortunately lived up to it’s promise of being long lasting, and I spent one very hot summer week swathed in a turtleneck and jeans.
This all came rushing back to me as I surveyed the rows of self-tanner. Was I willing to risk humiliation and possible discoloration for a “sublime bronze glow”? Well, in a word, yes. After all, they now have new “any-angle 360 degree continuous spray” bottles. I mean, that sounds a lot more impressive than any system, don’t you think? But just in case, if you see a streaky, orange, albeit fabulously dressed gal around campus, try not to point and laugh, will you?