How to roast your own flesh

When it comes to tanning, I have the same battle with myself every summer.

Me: I want to get a nice, nutty brown tan this summer.

My common sense: You’re way to white to tan. You’re one of those awkward albino kids that burn to a nice crisp tomato red after about ten minutes in the sun.

Me: No! I totally tanned on that family vacation to Aruba!

Common Sense: That was only because you got that horrible burn from windsurfing that eventually turned somewhat brown after weeks of agony and peeling.

Me: I’ll be more careful this time though. I’ll time myself when I’m laying on the beach and I’ll keep flipping so that I won’t have time to burn.

CS: That’s how you get skin cancer my dear.

Me: Ahhh I know I don’t want to die!!! But I really don’t want to be white all summer…my skin is so pale that I swear it’s literally translucent in some places.

CS: There’s always spray tan…

Me: Remember when #5 tried that? She looked like an Oompa Loompa for like a month. People followed her around at school telling her that Willy Wonka needed her back in the factory stat. I don’t think I could handle that level of embarassment.

CS: You’re an  idiot.

Me: Shut up common sense. Shoot, well I can’t tan, and I can’t spray tan. Maybe I’ll just go to the beach and like, hang out, and if I just happen to get a fantastic tan, well that’s just a bonus!

CS: This is going to turn out badly.

The next day...

Me: Can’t. Move. Whole. Body. Burnt.

Common Sense: I don’t want to say I told you so, but…

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