It's Been A While

Today I went to a tanning bed salon (is that what it's called?).

I'm a little out of practice. Blake said I had to or spend the entire Cali vacation 25 feet down the beach from him. With the kids.

Blake, basking in all his unemployment glory, is the spitting image of a Tropicana guy girl right now. He owns it. And, looks lovely.

Me? Not so much. I don't care for the sun. I physically cannot go out during daylight without sunglasses and when I do, I wear sunblock. And, slather the children accordingly. I think long term, peeps. Wrinkles, sun spots, etc. Not interested.

But, I will agree with Blake's plea not only to deter the onlookers from being shocked with my white skin, but also to get a "base" tan to get the party started. I did so pre-Mexico and pre-Hawaii for years. It worked. I didn't burn.

So, I drove to the nearest salon (?). It was a little different from when I went 6 years ago.

To begin with, I'm a little bit older than the clientele. And, they added some neon.

No, wait. To begin with, I wore my Building Better Moms t-shirt. I feel kinda cute in it. Shut up.

When I walked in, I immediately saw an orange figure from behind the counter and thought, "I want to be like her."

Done. Deal sealed.

I inquired into services, contracts, lotions, etc. Told her we were leaving for vacation in a couple of weeks.....I think she spotted my mom-mobile in the parking lot....and gave me a look like, "No, s*&t." We were not off to a good start.

It's all changed. When she told me that I would work my way up to a 15 minute bed, I replied, (in my most southern-hick accent possible) "Well, the last time I tanned, there were 30 minute beds!"

****crickets****

****heads turning****

****more crickets****

She looked at me like, "Ok, dinosaur, follow me."

I did and walked into a spaceship looking like room and proceeded to get the low down of instructions. Even after 2 rounds of it, I failed. Miserably. I don't want to tan my face. EVER. I saw fans in the tanning bed. Music fed in as well. None of this existed when I tanned before. It was all new. And, overwhelming.

Obviously.

So, mid-session, I tried to follow orange-sicle's advice and shut down the machine. Mid-session. I tried again, started it again, and then shut it down. My insecure 35 year old mind is picturing tweeners that look like they could qualify for AARP 12 twenty-somethings at the front desk giggling in delight over my misfortune, so I pushed buttons until it started again and took it like a man. Or, woman. Tanning. Whatever.

Lesson learned? Nothing here.