Like that boring porno movie.
And also like, all of a sudden, I want to tan!
It’s so unusual, and SO BAD. What am I doing? I’ve basically spent the last 20 years under an impenetrable layer of sunblock, and now I’m sprawling out, liberally oiled, under an afternoon sun.
It’s so weird.
I just want caramel thighs and cocoa bunz, maybe some sun-kissed shoulders. Doesn’t that all sound so sexual? And sort of delicious?
How did I go from being so pale I was literally sort of blue, to wanting to be a bronzed sun goddess? Not very goth, SARAH.
I won’t fake tan because of laziness, and because I’m not sure they make a Tan Towel big enough to tan my ass. Tan Beach Towel maybe? **Note to self: TAN BEACH TOWEL? COULD BE BIG $$$?** Plus, fake tanning doesn’t feel half as awesome as real tanning. Blanket, grass, chi, music, sunshine, NAPS?! All better than slipping a disc trying to tan the backs of my knees with can tan. Basically, the only thing fake tanning has on real tanning is, I don’t have to watch for neighbors booty peepin’ over the fence.
This guy knows what I’m talkin’ about.
So what then? Am I doomed to resign myself to a life of fish belly thighs, or do I get under that sun and keep an eye on my moles? Am I wrong and is Jason right about exactly what kind of Vitamin D deficiency I might have?
We all know it’s completely stupid to be out in the sun like that, but how do you fight the lure of that warm blanket? Why do otherwise sane people say “fuck it” to the dangers of tanning? I was just going to say I don’t want my moles to grow from the sun and take over my whole body, but then, I guess I’d at least be uniformly brown.