Tanning Anyone?

I am pasty-ass white by nature. My shins are almost blue I'm so pale. I'm also the person who applies any version of sunscreen and comes away with streaks, hand prints, and embarrassing lines all over my red and white body. Since I got pregnant my sensitivity to the sun is also much worse. I have a lot of splotchy sun spots and pigmentation issues, so I've about given up on my once childhood crush called the sun.

We are headed to a wedding this weekend, and I decided to remedy my calamity, I decided to book myself an appointment at Elizabeth Arden (darling) to tan me right up. The procedure is called the St. Tropez Body Bronzer. Basically, you strip down buck naked, and let a technician slather you with brown paint until you appear tan. I asked a number of seat-sinker, inappropriate questions as usual, but I had to know how this would effect me. In one hour I was done, and at the moment I left I looked a bit scary. She told me it goes on streaky, and would remain that way until I showered. Last night I looked like I had just come in from off-roading in my dune buggy. It just looked dirty. I went to bed reluctant that this would be any better than the orange striped tan I gave myself from Neutrogena last summer (Corba sisters can attest it was a tranny mess).

But low and behold, after my shower this morning, all of the streaks rolled down the drain, and I looked like I was really tan a week ago, and the leftover but still cool tan remained. You know that tan girls. Can I hear a Heyyyyyy! Anyway, it is the perfect color now, and you can't even tell it's painted on. I am astonished and amazed. Problem is, every day it washes away more. It is supposed to last five days (which seems short to me for the price), which will just get me to the wedding! Blast.

I was not able to take Lyla to swimming class this morning because of it (since the long stay in the water and chlorine work against St. Tropez' wonderous powers). That stinks, but I was secretly relieved not to have to drag Lyla out of bed, force feed her, and speed to the pool for once. Even the boys I work with who didn't even notice my hair cut from shoulder length, to full-on Mia Farrow noticed my color. Steve even said my hair looked lighter (which I had dyed two weeks ago). I would take a photo, but because I am so unphotogenic, I will not open myself up to the inevitable side talk about me that will occur when seeing my pic inserted into this blog!

So, now all I have to do is avoid long soaks in water (sorry bath--I hate bathing in your scum of me anyway), sweating profusely (sorry workouts), and exfoliating (sorry facialist--Miss Arden's orders).

Now to end the grossness of this account, I will leave you with vids of our girl.
The first two are us tormenting Lyla with 1. a heinous headband that came with some outfit someone gave us 2. her sunhat that no longer fits her sputnik head.

The third is Lyla swinging away in the dining room--her favorite pre-bedtime activity. She has begun swinging much more than actually bouncing, but all are equally funny to watch.


P.S. The table is farther away than it looks. We're not so bad.