Two days ago, I used self-tanner.
I am very pale...and I am honestly okay with it. (One of the reasons Julianna Margulies is one of my random modern-day beauty icons is that she once said in an interview that she was always teased for having curly hair, big lips and being as pale as a sheet...which are the three things everyone always got me for!) I go through my autumns, springs and winters embracing my lack of melanin.
And then summer comes...and I realize that I need to get SOME kind of color because when the temperatures rise to 95 degrees (as it has been doing in New York City this week!), one has no choice but to break-out the skirts and sundresses...and to show more skin...deathly white skin.
I bought some self-tanner.
I have had numerous self-tanner disasters over the years, and I really should have learned my lesson by now. I have on idea why I have not. As my father always used to say to me, "For such a smart kid...that was a dumb thing to do/say, etc."
However, this self-tanner seemed different.
It promised there wouldn't be any messy hands or streaks.
It promised to dry fast.
It promised a natural glow.
So...I applied it.
And I woke-up...looking like this...
I scrubbed with exfoliating beads for about ten minutes.
I crossed my fingers this horrible fake tan would wipe off.
I was streaky. I was orange. I was an Oompa Loompa.
I was determined to shrug it off. Nobody would notice. Nobody would care.
I felt so many disapproving stares on my (very very very streaky and orange) ankles. I shot daggers back.
What are you looking at??? You never saw streaky ankles before??? You never had your own self-tanner disaster??? Because you are just SO PERFECT?
Then I got to thinking...
Were people REALLY staring at my heinous fake-tan?
Does anybody else, besides myself, care at all?
I continued my walk up 8th Avenue and asked myself if I noticed other people's Oompa Loompa ankles.
I noticed cute dogs and babies.
I noticed a guy who looked like Matt Damon.
And I even thought I saw Camilla Parker-Bowles. (It wasn't her.)
But not one set of Oompa Loompa Ankles in sight.
Were these people really noticing me, or was I just so incredibly self-conscious (about looking like a freaking Oompa Loompa!) that I was imagining things?
I am sure there are people out there who are so superficial that they walk down the street and stare and judge people (for having Oompa Loompa Ankles.) However...I am pretty sure that people like that aren't people that I would want to be friends with, anyway! (That sounds very trite and I am sure there is a Sesame Street song that addresses this exact point.)
Life is way too short...live life...enjoy...dance like nobody is watching...
...even on days when you look like an Oompa Loompa.