Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Spring Break, Travel | Tags: adulthood, dermatology, health, humor, life, lifestyle, skin cancer, summer, travel
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.
Filed under: Posts | Tags: Christmas, family, fiction, humor, life, Middle-Age, new year, sex
Happy post-holiday food and drink orgy – and welcome to a new year of ways I can embarrass myself (and sometimes my family). It’s been a long hiatus from this collection of stupid things I think about and do, but in the immortal words of Randy Quaid….I’m BAAAAACK!
Now many of you know I can be forgetful. I blame it on age; some in my house would say I have ADD and should stop calling the kettle black. Either way, this Christmas my memory played a trick on me of epic proportions.
A few weeks before Christmas, Hubby went on an on-line buying spree and accidentally kept sending things to Daughter #1’s (D1) house. So, he asked her to bring them up for Christmas, hoping against hope she wouldn’t open the one that had some female “enhancement cream.” (Now, before you start getting all red and judgmental, remember that we’re in our 50s and have been together for 35 years. Sometimes you have to shake things up.) D1 said she would. For the next three weeks Hubby festered and worried that she would open the package.
“Do you think she opened it?” he asked me at least once a week.
“No, she wouldn’t. She knows it’s for Christmas,” I would reply.
Meanwhile, said daughter called me as soon as it came and asked if she could wrap it up, along with the other things, and put them under the tree from Santa – and surprise her dad. Knowing that the girls and their very significant others would be there, I laughed and said yes. This Christmas was already super weird, so why not make it epic?
And then I instantly forgot about it.
The day finally came to open presents with the kids. The tree was beautiful, the fire was lit, and we were all taking turns opening our gifts (yes, we’re that kind of family). I reached for a small gift that was to me from Santa and opened it. Inside was a pretty pink tube of cream. Without thinking I sniffed it (peppermint) and proceeded to rub it all over my hands, thinking it was hand lotion. I glanced at D1 and she was looking at me with horror. Then she covered her mouth and started laughing. Hard.
It took a couple of seconds before it clicked.
Oh shit…it’s THE CREAM!!
I looked at my greasy hands and started laughing, too.
D1 had to explain what was so funny to everyone else. D2 was also horrified but somehow didn’t seem surprised. I don’t know if I just no longer shock her with how dumb I can be, or if she knew about it. Hubby was totally confused for a second and then just asked if it worked.
I never looked at the boys to see what their reactions were – but I’m pretty sure that was not on their holiday wish list.
Here’s the answers to a few FAQs I’ve received after sharing this story:
- No, it didn’t make my hands warm and tingly
- No, I haven’t tried it in its official capacity, mostly because I DON’T KNOW WHERE IT IS. But, I swear to God If the kids have taken it and are going to mail it to me again, that will start a war that I will win.
- Yes, we have updated the delivery address.
- No, I still haven’t found out what the boys think. I don’t want to know. But I can safely say they just got a peek into the level of crazy we are currently operating on.
So, happy New Year everyone! 2025 went out with a tingle…and rest assured, I’ll be ordering my Prevegen shortly.
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Posts | Tags: 2025, adulthood, anxiety, depression, goals, humor, life, mental health, new year, personal growth, positive, resolutions
Usually at this time of year I post something about New Year resolutions and re-post a previous blog about body image. And yes, one of my resolutions is to get back to writing this blog. (I’ll still repost the body image blog, because I think it’s valid.) But, this year I really want to remind everybody to take a second and look back over the last few months, or year, or even five years, and see how far you’ve come. For some of you, that may mean taking off your readers for a few minutes to see farther back than yesterday. I’ll wait while you tap the top of your head, trying to remember if you actually have them on or not.
You do, because otherwise you wouldn’t be able to read this.
Ready? Ok.
Anyway…New Year resolutions are all about becoming a better person, or maybe just being less of a dick. Side note – one of my favorite gifts this year is this dish towel:
So that’s where my expectations are for people these days.
However, I think that before you make unrealistic resolutions for 2025, you should take a look at the positive changes that have happened in your life over the last year. Sometimes they are huge, like getting a new job, losing a bunch of weight or cutting someone toxic out of your life. Sometimes they may be as small as learning a new skill at work, like the fact that not every email deserves a response, or making it through an entire movie without also playing a game on your phone or scrolling through social media.
And, sometimes things that seem small are in fact HUGE – like going through a dark time and just plodding your way through, one day after another, until things get just a little bit better.
Whatever you’ve accomplished, take a second to acknowledge that you have had some triumphs. If it’s not 9:00am, maybe even have a glass of champagne to celebrate – unless you’re doing the Dry January thing (which I am). In that case you can always choose to substitute alcohol with a giant box of Cheese-Itz or other favorite snack food (which I do on the regular now). I mean Jesus, give yourself SOME kind of reward. You say you’re not or can’t afford to be food/drink motivated? Then reward yourself with something you like to do. If I’m not eating Rice Krispy treats or cheese in any form, my reward is to read fairy smut.
Don’t judge.
Some of you like biographies about celebrities with drug and sex addictions, real-life thrillers with some truly screwed up characters, and self-help books that are just cringey. I was in the airport for a significant amount of time this weekend and I saw what y’all are reading. At least fairies are fake.
So before you get that planner you’ll never fill out, join that gym you’ll quit in two months or start on ruin your knees by running 3 miles a day when you’ve been a couch potato for the last year, remember that you accomplished some stuff this year. It’s not anybody else’s business what that was – they don’t know your experiences, struggles or inner goals that you set for yourself. Most likely they wouldn’t understand or appreciate it. But you do – so go get that cheese or champagne or book that you don’t want anyone to know that you read over and over again (I see you, ACOTAR people). You deserve a little celebration as well as a little improvement.
Subourbon Mom 