Adventures in Self-Tanning

I'm not really ready for my closeup, Mr. DeMille.

You'd think I'd be used to using the self-tanning stuff by now, seeing as how I've used it off and on since the days of orangey glows. One summer in college I did get a tan, but it took a couple of months of carefully timed baking (I'd turn over when the 15 minute bells rang in the OSU bell tower) and it just wasn't worth it. After that, my few remaining melanocytes packed up and left, so I can tan from a can or scare small children on the beach. My choice.

I'd gone pretty white this summer, until my mom told me about a new Aveeno product where you can dial the amount of tan you want. Catchy! Sort of fun! And take your time! If you dial it all the way up and then slop it on in a hurry, you come out with Desert Camo Legs, a great look for Iraq, a place I have no plans of visiting anytime soon.

So this morning I did what all the websites say to do: exfoliated. Two layers of skin later, it's not as bad, interspersed with the pink abrasions and all. I'm back to where I started: jeans all summer.