Blister in the sun...

Some things are just not fair.  Not at all.  Not even a little bit.  Take for instance my mother's ability to tan with the ease of someone born and raised much further South than the continental United States.  She lays on her deck, book in hand and turns the nicest shade of tan you've ever seen.  My dad?  He can hang out outside for a bit, doing yard work or whatever kind of work, and the same thing happens.  Nice and tan.  It's like my parents were put in some human toaster and came out perfect. 


Me?  HA!  There is something wrong with my skin.  It's rejects the sun with a ferocity that just makes no sense.  The tan gene skipped me completely.  I have this lovely (insert sarcasm here) reddish undertone to my skin that only becomes more and more prominent the longer i stay out in the rays.  Now don't get me wrong, my arms and shoulders will brown a bit, turning not so much red but all the more freckled.  But my cheeks always glow a hot pink and my nose would give Rudolph reason to think of retirement.  And my legs?  Well let's just say that translucent takes on a whole new meaning when they get involved.


To add insult to injury I married a man with Italian blood and the ability to tan by merely thinking about it.  Steven's arms and legs get tan as soon as the sun starts shining in early spring and don't ever really fade.  He's like a plant.  If there's sun, he thrives.  My only real saving grace is the fact that he's not a guy to go shirtless so he's got a killer farmer's tan.  His back and belly are as white as me.  That seems to level the playing field a bit.  Though only a little.  


But today I decided to fight.  I want to be tan.  I'm tired of wearing my light khaki shorts and blending in with the fabric.  I'm sick of looking a bit sick.  And let's face it; chubby looks better tan.   You know it's true.  So i took my book, my water and my beach chair and I hit the deck.  It took all of 40 seconds for the sweat to begin to pour.  In my mind I'm chanting " I can do this, I can do this" over and over.  A mantra if you will to make it through the heat.  I was doing ok.  I was going to make it.  Then I looked down.  


I stared through the sunlight bouncing off my legs to what was now visible.  Blotches.  Large and red.  And they were all over.  My knees look like I'd kneeled in red paint and my thighs have the appearance of skin after it's been slapped over and over.  I've got a feeling that this is just not going to be my day.  There was an odd tingle all over every place the sun had kissed (or bitten--whatever you want to call it) and I wasn't quite sure if that was pain or just discomfort.  Isn't there supposed to be a little burn of sorts?  No?  Well, damn. 


So I got up and came inside.  Within about ten minutes I looked back to normal.  Well, except for the dryness, slight itching and tiny little spots.  Is this just not meant to be for me?  Am i destined to be the girl with pearly white legs?  The girl who will always have to use SPF this-is-strong-enough-for babies?  Maybe I'll go back out for a minute. Just a little bit.  Give it another try.  Or maybe I'll just sit on the couch and read while the Golden Girls plays in the background.  Yeah, that sounds more like it.