Subourbon Mom

From Sun Goddess to Rotisserie Chicken Rehab: My Spray Tan Intervention

For the first time in my life, I finally did something smart for my skin. After having to use chemo cream this winter and getting a melanoma site cut out of my shoulder at the same time, it has become clear that all of the fun I had in my younger years is coming back to bite me. Besides looking like a dried-up apple if I’m not chugging water and putting various toners, serums and moisturizers on my face, now I’m having to lop bits off. Let me tell you, melanoma bits are deep; that means layers of stitches and limited movement afterward. Plus, the scary factor.

After much convincing from Daughters 1 and 2, I finally decided to get a spray tan before going on our spring trip. I was going to trick my vanity into thinking I was already tan, so I would not feel compelled to roast in the sun like a delicious Costco rotisserie chicken.

It worked! For once I stayed in the shade, slathered on 50+ sunscreen and didn’t feel like a raw piece of chicken just out of the package.

Now, before you all jump on me and talk about chemicals and how they are just as bad as getting actual sun, recognize that I’m treating the immediate problem. As I always have, I’ll worry about the chemicals later.

A lot of my friends haven’t done a spray tan, either, and they had A LOT of questions. So, here’s how it went with all the glorious, undignified details:

I chose a local place for the first time, recommended by a lot of people, called NudeFX. Sounds like a strip club, but it was elegant and discreet. Before my appointment they talked with me by phone about how it would go and directed me to their website for how to prepare (LOTS of exfoliating and moisturizing). The day of the appointment we discussed an option that was $10 more for a clear type of spray for “mature skin” (i.e., lots of brown and white age spots). I opted for that since in addition to not accentuating the brown spots, it also is supposed to keep you from being orange.

When we got to the small room where this great event was to take place, there was a mat to stand on, a large fan thing that looked like a giant speaker that sucked the extra spray from the room, and a small table with disposable thongs, pasties and a hair cap. The thongs and pasties were optional – the hair cap is necessary. You can also just wear your underwear or a bathing suit or nothing at all. This being my first time, I opted for the thong and the pasties.

Yep – naked but for a fake thong, pasties and a haircap. I was a delight to the eyes, like someone’s OnlyFans vision of lunch lady porn.

Helpful Hint: For those of us who are hormonally challenged and wear a hormone patch near the groin, remember to take it off unless you’re fine with a perfect, stark white moon in orbit around your thong strap mark.

Helpful Hint: Don’t bother with the pasties. Hubby saw the result (ridiculously pale nipples on tan skin looks like a reversed fried egg) and busted out laughing.

Once you’re undressed, the technician comes in and begins to spray. There’s a lot of “lift that arm to here” and “turn this way” and so on as she basically holds what looks like a combination of paint sprayer and hair dryer. As she goes, she also takes a very soft makeup brush and ensures the spray is even, especially around your feet and hands to prevent those white gaps that make tanning look fake and cheesy.

Helpful Hint: Just check your dignity at the door – I am sure they have seen it ALL. And don’t get fooled by the cool pictures they have of great tans people have achieved. They’re all hot twenty-somethings. I happen to know that a lot of people get tan that don’t look like that, so RELAX. They don’t care at all, and I never felt a hint of judgment.

When you get home after the tan, you’re supposed to wear loose, flowy clothes to prevent rubs until the tan sets – apparently going commando is best. Knowing Hubby was going to be home, I did not take the commando option – I just wore the loose flowy clothes for 5 hours. For the first couple of hours nothing happened – I couldn’t even tell I’d done anything. But eventually it started to work, and it was subtle. After the 5 hours I rinsed off (no soap or shampoo allowed yet).

Helpful Hint: If you’re like me and can’t sit still, rack up some small in-house projects that need to be done, like those piles of laundry, cleaning out your fridge or whatever. You won’t want to go in public or get in your car.

The tan keeps developing overnight. By 8:00pm I started to freak out – I was looking like my usual summer tan, which was exactly what I was going for, but I didn’t know when it would stop.

And then I noticed the smell.

We were sitting on the couch watching TV when all of the sudden all I could smell was Fritos…or Cheetos. At first, I thought it was the dogs – they can get yeasty smelling in the winter. Dog paws are one of my favorite smells, which, according to the internet, is a yeast issue. Yeasty dog paws smell like Fritos. So, I grabbed Holly’s paw and sniffed – it wasn’t any more Frito-smelling than usual. And then, I zeroed in on where the smell was coming from.

It was me. I smelled like dog paws.

I made Hubby sniff my arm, which sparked a short debate on whether it was Fritos or Cheetos. Then I panic-called Daughter #1 who had spearheaded this project.

“Oh yeah, that’ll last about a day or two,” was her response. “It’ll mostly go away after you shower with soap and shampoo.”

I feel like that should have been communicated in advance.

The next morning, I was a little darker, but not a hint of orange, and the 3:00am pre-travel shower felt amazing. However, on the plane I was sandwiched between Hubby and some poor man who probably thought I’d had nothing but Fritos for the last six meals. I could smell it wafting up as I got warmer in the cramped middle seat.

So….was it worth it? ABSOLUTELY.

Bottom line, the tan lasted almost all week, with minimal streaking or fading. More importantly, I did manage to trick my vanity. I never felt like I needed to bake in the sun – I got plenty just hanging out (mostly in the shade), wearing hats and gobs of sunscreen.

I may not be able to tell my dermatologist to suck it (I still have 30+ years of damage to deal with), but I’m definitely going to put a damper on her vacation fund from now on.

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