A moment of Madness

I'm off on holiday soon with my family, most of whom are outdoorsie types who like nothing more than to be dripping wet, covered in mud and astride a bycicle with a seat like a razor blade! Me? not so much. I like my outdoor experience to be a little more civilised, leisurely walks, open air cafes, outdoor decks with stunning views where you can sit with your knitting and a drink (coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon and gin in the evening) You get the picture.

The problem about being surrounded by people who spend most of their free time outdoors is that they have a permanent tan. I am a typical Scots lass, blue eyes fair skin which is prone to freckles (in fact the only thing that disqualifies me from being on a shortbread tin is that I have brown hair not red) I don't tan, I never have and I suspect I never will so this year I decided that I would get a "Fake Bake". Good idea? you'd think so wouldn't you.

I trotted into the salon full of the joys of spring got chatting to the very friendly young woman who was going to give me my treatment (hang on, treatment! it's all sounding a bit serious) I explained to her that I have never had a tan and I only wanted to look lightly sunkisses, a healthy glow (rather than being as palid as Golem) and that my skin was dry in some places and normal in others, she assured me that solution number 9 would achieve just that effect and that I wasn't to worry this product worked on all skin types.

So brimming with confidence was I that I happily stepped int to the little booth where the compressor powered equipment was all set up. 15 minutes later I emerged feeling like I had just been given a coat of shellac and looking alarmingly brown. Again I was told reassuringly that this was just the guide colour used so that the "technician" knew that all exposed areas had been coated. So I left the salon with a pamphlet of useful advice on how to care for may new tan, it would develop over night and in the morning all the brown stuff would wash off in the shower leaving me with the desired effect.

During the evening I watched in horror as I went from pasty to mahogany! I lasted all of 4 hours before I fled to the bathroom for a shower and oh boy am I glad that I did. Even after using soaps on the banned list because the oils in them remove the fake tan I still look like an Oompah Loompah (from the original film with Gene Wilder as Willy Wonka) causing great hillarity in the household. Oh and guess what, remember I said I had dry skin in places (namely my hands) they have turned out even darker than the rest of me!

Oh well at least I'm not at work and will spend most of my "Orange Period" in the company of complete strangers who I will likely never see again. From now on I'm sticking to my traditional blue/white complexion, and I don't care how many people go snow blind because of it. (there is no picture to accompany this post!)