So in the next few days, we are going to hit at least 80 degrees here in SoCal. The recent rains have made us into some of the most pathetic and melodramatic whiners in the country. Not to dismiss things lightly, there were some unfortunate losses of life and property with the rains, but most of the time it was just water falling from the sky. We just are not used to that here.
Which leads me to the fact that I think I will probably be forced to wear shorts for the first time in at least 6 months.
I will have to show my pasty legs in public, and it won't be a pretty sight.
Actually, I do not have the legs of Snow White. My complexion is a little bit olive from my Italian side, and I tan like no tomorrow. Except, I don't tan anymore. And it feels weird.
I grew up here, worshipping the sun. My best friend in high school and I used to lay out at the beach applying only baby oil to our skin. Sunscreen was scoffed at, something only used by people visiting from Indiana. My tanned skin made my blue eyes bluer and my blonde hair blonder, which of course is the whole point.
But about 8 years ago, after hearing about all the damaging effects of the sun, I swore to never tan again. And I have pretty much stuck to it. Gaining weight added to the ease of this promise, as my forays into bathing suits became fewer and farther between. I still am not that great about applying sunscreen to myself, but I use it religiously with Mr. Personality.
I miss my bronzed skin. I can't help it. I cluck with disappointment as I put on shorts, my legs just don't look right. I have never liked bottled tans, and have never thought that tanning beds were much safer than actual sun. So, anyone that sees me this weekend, take pity on a reformed tanner. It wouldn't hurt to keep your sunglasses on, either. The glare could be a little much.