Oompa Loompa doompadee doo

I've got another puzzle for you...


as i pack for a short, holiday-weekend trip to the beach (or as philly natives say, "goin' down da shore -- hey! are yous guys goin'? huh?"), i feel compelled to share with you my plight -- partly as a caution to you, and partly just to vent.

the short version: don't get a spray tan.

the longer version: what was i thinking?

after years of avoiding the sun, you can imagine how pale i am. so pale, in fact, that the thought of going onto the beach in july upset me. in early may, i might have passed as a "first time on the beach this season"-er. but by july, anyone who looks like this is clearly a library nerd who never sees the light of day, except when he catches a bus at 7:45 am.

after a friend of mine got a fairly successful spray tan, i thought it was a great idea. a perfect summer tan without the fuss of wasting time in the sun, damaging precious cancer-free skin cells, and aging prematurely? sign me up!

today i'm singing a different tune. i am an oompa loompa. and let me tell you, that sh*t set in QUICK! the roasted-almond-brown slut at hollyood tans said it would be about 8 to 12 hours before i would see the color. but my blank-canvas skin soaked up the supposedly invisible spray like newly-plastered drywall splashed with red wine.

by the time i got home, my hands and feet were brown. my toes looked like those of the guys who live on the sidewalks of 12th street. and my hands -- oh boy, my hands! brown as Whoopi, and NOT coming off. the loofah didn't work. soap didn't work. finally, in an ingenious move for which i verbally pat myself on the back, i emptied 1/4 tube of arm & hammer whitening toothpaste into my palms and scrubbed for dear life. and it worked!

so as i sit here, fearing the hue my skin might appear in the bright daylight of the jersey shore, i have to caution you. THINK before you spray tan, ok? promise me?

and while i would normally declare a personal boycott, post a facebook rant about hollywood tans, and maybe even dedicate a revised version of kelly clarkson's Never Again to that horrible tanning salon ("NEVER AGAIN will I trust you....NEVER AGAIN will I spray tan... NEVERRRR"), i can't promise that i'm writing it off forever.

i mean, what's the alternative? being pasty and white in a society plagued with an unattainable standard of tan, youthful beauty? or even worse, going out into the sun... like, regularly... without SPF 45 on? shaaa... right! as if.

maybe i'll call HT and complain. or at least ask for a free spray tan... for the next time i'm going to the beach.



p.s. i'll update you later to let you know if anyone notices my clementine hue, or makes a comment about a bad spray tan, or asks me to work in his chocolate factory.

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