Too Tan Anne

*
If you've never stood naked (save for underwear) in front of a woman with air-brush gun full of Quick Tan Juice, I recommend it. Since I haven't sunbathed for over ten years (I'm the dork at the beach with the 60 who argues "You can still get sun with SPF 60!") and not for health reasons, but because I'm completely vain about going wrinkly too soon. Anyway, I'm getting some neat-0 photographs taken of myself on Monday, and it was suggested that a little glow might help shine me up or slim me down or whatever the fuck it's supposed to do.

So I opted for the fake bake----the one that Hollywood whores abuse that makes them look orange on the red carpet--not the real ultraviolet sun simulation. It took about 20 minutes of me posing with arms up, arms to the side, yada, yada, yada whilst she sprayed this cool mist of tanning chemical on me. I didn't think it was making a difference until I looked under the waistband of my underwear: Ban de Soleil, everybody, it's a deep, dark and Tropicana tan. For me.

Apparently it gets darker during the next 6 hours. During which time I went to Sym's and tried on this amazing pale pink 100% silk full-length gown that I inadvertently stained with tanning juice on the inside lining near the cleavage that I then had the balls to ask for a discount on when I got to the register. The manager had the balls to give me a lousy $10 off (5%) and with a guilty conscience, I accepted. It was me afterall, but she didn't know that. I'd never accept 5% off on somebody else's tanning juice residue, but whatevs. I had to have it.

Ahh, spray on bronze. Just one of those things in this world that everyone should experience at least once before Iran and North Korea nuke us.

* I don't know who this broad is. But someone does, and they fuckin' love her, man, so don't rag on her poor choice of dress sans straps. Sure, she should have thrown that pink Pasminka over her shoulders, but nobody was there to coach her, ayite? Friends and family let her down.