A Twenty Spot & You Too Can Look Pretty Much Horrifying

I know tanning can be a controversial subject; the potentially harmful effects on the skin, yada, yada, but that's not what we're discussing here today. No, today it's about the fact that I have been somewhat addicted to that cocoa glow on & off for years now, and yes, I tan indoors occasionally because it gets you evenly, quickly, and you don't have to bead sticky sweat under the blazing sun for hours to get a beautiful color.

Mere minutes, some crazy, incredibly high-powered fans, grooving to some music in the nude & you're a walking bronze statue. How could some pasty Irish girl not be alll over that shit?!

So, even though I'm convinced I know what I'm doing with my excessive moisturizing & avoiding burning, my fears still creep up on me once in a while. ESP. with my Irish skin. What if I start getting those spots?!

I don't want to end up one of those women who's a walking piece of beef jerky & skin soup because she fried herself constantly for 20+ years like a leather wrapped strip of bacon.

As you may know, there are many alternatives nowadays. You know, from instant tanning lotions that don't work to pills that turn you fucking orange.

I call bullshit on where all the oompa loompas came from.
I'll give you a hint-Spring break.

Considering I recently started tanning again, I've been reminded of my spray tanning incidents gone awry.

 So, in the past few years Mystic Tan has come out with something I figured was the answer-The Mystic Tans spray tanning booth.

It seemed to be the answer for many people with fears of the risks of tanning, it had to be the answer for me, right?

Well, this is where I point out to you that this pixi's luck in some arenas may be a lil different and that I've learned time & time again that what works for most probably isn't going to go right for my ass.

So, on this day of my first spray tan I am so psyched. I have a weekend long date in VT with this hot guy I liked (Who turned out to be the loser of losers & careless, shitfaced drivers, but another story for another time maybe), and I'm happy I'm able to pull off weeks worth of tanning in one 6 minute spray session.

I don't buy all the special before lotions they suggest because the ditz behind the counter tells me I can do without it & gave me some simple lotion they had on hand, so I pick out my color cartridge & head for the booth.

The booth............

(The robotic goddamn gas chamber)

"I will break your legs, boss you around, and spooge in your face."

I had no idea this was really the case till it was too late.

I walk into Captain Picard's lil capsule there onto this octagon metal floor traced with footprint patterns.

I wasn't sure if this was like one of those Dance Dance Revolution games where I had to dance to the Macarena just to turn this on, but because of the cheap lotion (And my lack of booties. And how TF was I supposed to know I needed booties), I was slipping & sliding all over this thing like I was fighting for dear life.

I finally get a lil bit of a grip & insert my cartridge (Uh haha, Beavis), and this voice echoes from all corners like fucking 2010 Space Odyssey.

I have no time to think or even blink before I start getting hosed down in this chemical substance that smells so toxic it really seems like no living thing on this earth should be within 100 miles of it.

This robot bitch is yelling at me, telling me to move my feet onto all different numbered footprints & positions with my naked ass in a shower cap while this machine is giving me golden showers from every angle & I'm just trying so hard not to breathe or break my legs, and this lil routine either unlocks some key to the universe or it's a futuristic game of nuclear Twister. Either way it's like McDonalds meat-I'm hatin' it.

The only thing this was missing was a robotic hand that picks you up & slams you into the walls till you're knocked unconscious.

Here's an older, less deluxe version.

See what I mean? For that type of shit I at least expect breakfast in the morning.

I was thrilled a few hours later when I noticed myself getting darker & darker, and the color itself did look natural.

But when I got to Vermont & was sitting on a grassy knoll with my date in my cute lil mini skirt & noticed my Zebra legs, it wasn't so awesome.

I KNOW it's not a Zebra. It's a Jack Ass, take a hint.

Now this is an ongoing issue with me & you're bound to hear the words "You'd think I had learned my lesson" many times in the future of this blog.

Because a year later I found myself in some weird no name tanning salon that was probably just someone's basement, naked & being sprayed from a canister I swear I have in my garage, by some weird lady, only to have it start raining the second I walked out of there, and have YOU ever seen somebody literally peel & chip like the led paint on an old house?

Remember Death Becomes Her?

I could have used my own mortician too.

This IS what happens when spray tanning goes wrong.

It's like, The Hulk dipped in golden hershey squirts.
The guy on the right, not the one on the left.

I'm going to stick with the lamps until there's a better solution or I learn to do that shit right me thinks.
I mean, even if it can look normal on some people when done right, the facts are still the facts. The reality is a lot like this till your next few showers & tanning session....

Be smart. No one takes a clown seriously.