1. I’m pale. Like, really pale. Not my-skin-barely-covers-my-veins pale, but pale nonetheless.
2. It’s my one year anniversary with my boyfriend tomorrow, and I don’t want to be a pale chicken. Not that chickens are pale…it just sounded like a good phrase to use…
Okay, so with that out of the way, I’d like to embark on the marvelous journey that is the tanning salon. More specifically, though, I’d like to describe the idiocy that occurs inside its walls.
1. The guy who helped me had a MOM tattoo. It didn’t bother me as much as it probably should have, mostly since I have a feeling that he was just being ironic…because really, who does that? I definitely forgave him though, because he had the om symbol tattooed on his wrist, and I’m kinda in love with that. (I should add that HE did not spray tan me, a machine did…)
2. You stand on these metal plates that have numbers on them, and the woman’s voice in the machine says, “Put your left foot on number 1” and so on, so that you know where to stand and when to turn 90 degrees. As he was showing me the machine, he said, “You stand here so you know where to go, and also the metal plates will ionize with your skin and make the tan better.”
You guys, I almost pissed myself laughing. The metal plates will ionize? With my skin? What?
3. My bff forevs Chloe has had many such experiences. I wrote about one of them here, but I should share one more with y’all tonight.
Bimbo at the Salon: “The spray will react with the amino acids in your skin and really make the tan last longer and be darker.”
I worry that she is right. But mostly I’m sure that she isn’t…
4. As I was about to go back and get my spray tan on, a woman walked in the salon. The guy behind the counter knew her by name, and said, “Oh, Clarissa gets Mystic Tan all the time, and she loves it!” And Clarissa perked up and said, “I DO! I LOVE IT!” and it was like we were in a commercial for sunshine and awesome, and then we all hugged.
So the moral of the story is, spray tanning is as entertaining as it is…um…darkening? Which is a lot, I think, since it’s only been three hours and I feel like I just turned Mexican. Just kidding, that could never happen (for more reasons than one…or maybe just one), but I look a little darker than usual! So hopefully I don’t turn into a carrot overnight. Wish me luck!
Oh, and Michael, happy anniversary, darling :) I love you.