The Sunburntan

I don't feel well today. I am chilled, and can't seem to warm up. I am itchy all over. My skin is stinging to the touch, and this feeling encompasses my entire torso, which, much to my dismay, must be entirely clothed. The virus? Sunburntan.

Now that I am single again, I have to put much more emphasis on being cute. It's not that I was ever uncute when I was married. I just didn't have to try as hard, so I could let things slide. Like tanning. When I had my hair dyed a deep violet-auburn a few years ago, I decided that I no longer needed to be tan. When I was blonde, I was expected to be all tan and sunshine-y. With dark hair, I had fine reason to be pale and un-sunshine-y. It was more socially acceptable.

However, now with my newfound singleness, I've taken up tanning once again, since my pasty, pale skin hasn't seen the rays of a tanning bed since the early part of the Bush administration.

Tanning is a hobby that I enjoy very much. It's somewhat sensual to strip down and crawl in the tanning bed, which boasts a nice combo of hot and cold, thanks to the hot bulbs and the fans used to cool it down. It's a nice mid-day break, and it's also nice after work. I am always bummed that my salon only lets you go for 15 minutes, and I'm pretty sure I got cheated last night, and the girl set my bed too short, and I only got like, 12 minutes, or something. Sometimes I see tanning beds for sale in the classifieds, and I think to myself that if I had my own tanning bed, it'd be the equivilent of a human pig roast. I'd just let myself roast until my flesh was tender and hanging off my body.

Since I've been tanning so many days in a row, I've developed a sunburntan across my entire torso. I am bright red, and worse, on my back, I have distinct white lines, obviously showing where I've been laying in the bed, in between bulbs. Even my poor bum is sunburntanned right now, and one of the miseries of being single is that you have no one to rub lotion on your poor sunburntanned back and bum.

Not one to easily admit to pain--much less self-inflicted pain--I keep going tanning, and keep working on my sunburntan. I don't care what the FDA has to say about tanning and its dangers. I think it's a good source of vitamin D, and a nice recreational hobby. I don't drink, smoke, do illegal drugs, drive unsafely or participate in extreme sports. I am entitled to one vice that could be responsible for taking my life, and my vice of choice is tanning. It does, however, seem appropriate that my vice locks me in a coffin-like device, not unlike what the end result of a lifetime of tanning will be.

Alas, I am now sitting at work, in near-constant pain due to my sunburntan. Apart from my torso, back and ass, my sunburntan actually looks good. People ask me if I have been away on vacation, or if I am planning to leave on vacation. What I really want to tell them is that the only place I've been to lately is divorce court, but I keep it to myself.

Fortunately, I have a pre-tummy-tuck party to attend tonight, so I won't be able to build on my sunburntan today, which is probably a good thing, since I am nursing myself through the day with lots of ibuprofen, iced tea and lotion.