Not that I’m an orangist.
If you’ve a medical complaint, I haven’t anything against you.
I love you just as you are.
But what exactly is wrong with the girls who dose themselves in smelly goo and look in the mirror and their newly-tangerined complexion and think that this is a good look?
An attractive look?
Personally, if my skin turned that colour, I’d lock myself away from human kind until every trace of the tango was gone.
I know that when a person looks in the mirror, they don’t see what everyone else sees, but can a person’s perception be SO messed up that they think this nulear glow is something to work for and be proud of?
I remember when I turned 17, Ma decided to put together a nice collection of girly stuff as part of my present.
Included in this was tanning wipes.
Not that Ma is a Tangerine Queen herself, but she saw all the other girls using this stuff and thought that because I’m the colour of fresh death, I’d want to join in with this trend.
My parents had some issues with my pale skin and were always telling me to get out in the sun and “get a bit of colour”, completely ignoring my insistance that I just don’t tan.
Read the instructions, which said to rub the wipes over my skin and leave for a few hours for the colour to show.
So I decided to test it out on my arms, on a Sunday night before school (the traditional Bath Night) and went to bed, expecting to wake to beautiful golden skin.
Instead awoke to skin the colour of rich mahogony.
Oh. Sweet. Jesus.
AND despite NO amount of scrubbing that colour did NOT budge.
My hands looked ridiculous.
Any self-respecting parent who had inflicted this on their child would have let them hide under the quilt and take the day off school to allow for at least 20 showers.
But not Ma.
And so I had to go to school.
And be ridiculed by my friends for the entire day.
And for the next three days it took for the colour to wear off.