Snow White Tan

by Sharon Nichols, May 10, 2007

It's that time of year again. Time to show off my arms and legs and be discriminated against for my race! That's right. I'm white. More specifically, I'm a light-skinned Caucasian. Never fails. Every summer, as I sit in the shade by the lake, wearing my fuchsia swimsuit, someone walks by and says, "You need some color," or a friend will comment, "You're blinding me!" THAT'S DISCRIMINATION! I'll keep slathering on SPF-1,000,000 as if I live on Mercury! I'm a colored person and that color is white! Back in the '80s, I learned a hard lesson. I fell asleep in the sun and woke up tomato red. For weeks I had to wear baggy dresses so the fabric wouldn't touch my skin. Ow!!! When my skin started to peel, it was something out of a horror flick. My thighs started peeling-- only at the tops-- and when I stepped into the shower, the fronts of my legs ballooned out like, well, giant balloons! I hollered for my then-husband to come take a look. We both got a good laugh. We got another good laugh a few days later when it happened again. I started going to a tanning salon after hearing that getting a "base" would help me not to burn in the sun. Being lily-white, it took me ten sessions just to get a base. After a few years, and thinking about the high incidence of cancer in my family, I bowed out of the struggle forever, embracing my pale skin in my 20s, for that is my natural color.

I can't help but ponder these things every time I see a tanned whitey walk past me in the gym in February. I mean, come on! Am I supposed to believe that you just got back from a month in Cancun? You look like a baseball glove! Here's how the tanning hut works: you go in and plop down your ten bucks or whatever, and then you climb into a giant microwave oven and lie there in a ridiculous position so the rays hit every potential crease or crevice. And don't forget to sit on the edge of the glass for your last five minutes to nuke your genitals, 'cause god forbid you have a white buttcheek line! It's oh, so very sanitary. And then you can walk out and be a little browner. And a little happier. Whateva. I'll keep my snow white tan, thank you. I'll wear long sleeves while working in the yard and I'll shy away from shorts. I'll never sit in the sun. When I start to get a one-armed "driver's tan", you'll see me cruising down the road leaning to the port side, tucking my arm down low away from the sun's rays. It's goofy, but hey, it keeps me looking symmetrical. I defy you, all three of my readers, to find a tan line on me anywhere! www.myspace.com/sharonnichols