Euphemistically speaking, I am what one would refer to as “fair-skinned” or of “a porcelain complexion”. Realistically speaking, however, I am pale. The kind of pale that when I am tanned I still look “fair.” Now Victoria, (present place of habitation) while charming, is not exactly known for its sunshine, quite the opposite rather. For while it garners less precipitation than nearby Vancouver, it is still very, very wet. It has been especially dreary here lately. As such the tanning beds (evils that they are) have become increasingly alluring. Realizing they are unjustifiably wrong, I decided to attempt a safer version of a golden, sun-kissed glow: spray tan in a can (what could go wrong?).
Innocuous Can of Spray Tan
In an equation: wife + husband + spray tan in a can = one heck of a streaky mess
See, I knew I could not feasibly get my entire body (while the yoga has made me more bendy, such levels of flexibility I don’t think I could ever hope to obtain). In order to combat my lack of swivel, I recruited the Mr. In all fairness, he was pretty hesitant to help. He had no idea how. I figured the instructions were simple, and impossible to screw up. I may have goaded him on (name calling may have been involved). Again, lesson learned.
For what resulted (hours later when my new “tan” developed) can only be described as what looks like a henna tattoo gone wrong. It is (on the bright side!) really nice and golden where it isn’t a ghastly mess. Gonna be exfoliating like CRAZY over the next while!
yep, that happened