Spray Tanning

One of the local tanning salons was giving away free spray tans last week.

That's right.

Free.  Spray.  Tans.

Have I mentioned that I am the whitest person you know?

Not just white.

Pasty white.

Splotchy, veiny, white.

My friend told me about it & so we went to check it out. 

I had actually been to this fine establishment before, so I knew what to expect.  Faithful KWTF fans will remember the Stand Up Coffin debacle of June 2011. 

So let me give you a break down of my latest visit and my observations.

#1.  Tanning salon employees must meet a few criteria.  Must have blonde hair, super white teeth, weigh less than 115 pounds soaking wet, be between the ages of 18 and 21, and must love Jersey Shore.  Also, must have a deep, dark tan rivaling the skin tone of Grace Jones.  If you don't know who Grace Jones is, you are too young to be reading this blog.  Google it if you must, but I am rolling my eyes at you.

#2.  In the past, the person who did the spray tanning was a middle aged woman, presumably the owner, who smokes and carries a few extra pounds herself.  She totally makes you feel comfortable while you are standing there shivering, basically naked except for a pair of underwear and a shower cap.  HOWEVER....the free spray tan last week was administered by one of the young, skinny, blonde and very tan employees. 

Fine, whatever.  I've come to accept my body.  It is what is is.  I've borne 2 children and have had an eating disorder known as overeating for awhile now.  I have stretch marks, cottage cheese thighs, muffin tops and wouldn't be surprised if I were asked if I'm pregnant.  (I'm not.)

While I was getting sprayed, I kept wanting to tell the girl that I used to be skinny like she was. 

But I was afraid that might make her cry.

So I just kept my mouth shut and got my free tan.

There's no crying in tanning.  It makes you have white lines down your orange face.