Wednesday, February 07, 2007
I get bummed in February, it's just the cost of living in a northern climate. Once, I actually slept in for a night class. Other times, I've told people that I don't answer the phone in February.
This year I decided to be proactive in avoiding the seasonal affect. So, I decided among other things to go to a tanning salon. Not to actually get a tan, just to get a bit of 'sun' exposure, and hopefully not be so drag ass. And I don't want everyone giving me a whole lot of BS about this, because, I know tanning is dangerous, I know that it'll give you skin cancer. I'm the biggest advocate of staying out of the sun that there ever was. Ask Ashley.
Anyway, I went into the foreign land of the tanning salon for the first time last night. The girl who worked there obviously had no idea why I would want to go in the tanning bed for such a short amount of time. She kept refering to me getting a base to begin with. I tried to explain to her that I was happy to be pasty white for the rest of my life, that I just needed to go in for a few minutes, and she kept saying if you only do it for a few minutes you won't get any colour. Whatever, I let her talk me into 5 minutes when I only wanted 2.
While reading my book and waiting for my slot people kept going in and coming out, beet red. I was looking at them over my book, the clerk kept saying, "Oh you look great!" What?! They looked like lobsters who had been boiled in a pot. So weird.
When it was my turn to go in, I wasn't sure how much clothing to remove, I took my coat off and then debated about what else. The spray bottle of tanning bed cleaner in the room made me feel better about the whole situation, but I still wasn't too sure I wanted my bare ass touching the same place that the bare asses of strangers, lobster looking strangers, had recently been. And as it turns out you can't hover over a tanning bed the way you can over a ladies toilet. Then there was the question of my socks, on or off, I don't ever want to have athlete's foot again, but on the other hand, why get sock tan when you don't have to? So I had this entire crisis in the room about what to wear in a tanning bed where no one would see me. The only thing I was sure of was that I needed to keep my face and neck covered.
In the end, I decided, got in and tried desperately to keep my eyes covered while groping for the handle to pull the lid down. I laid there imagining myself aging by the second, feeling my skin burning off. And, when I got out, there was absolutely no difference, except that my wool sweater was just a little bit more scratchy than it had been 5 minutes before.
When I left the clerk smirked at me and asked how it was, I said fine. She didn't tell me I looked great. And I was glad.