Nothing mystic about it

I’ve always been a cross between Snow White’s mousy, loud-mouthed sister who gets the kitty cat and not the prince and someone who’s so flushed I look like I’ve been drinking all day (which sometimes is actually the case).

I’m always the girl who gets sun poisoning on the fourth day of vacation, which forces me to either move inside or find another activity besides baking. I’m also the girl who should buy stock in aloe vera gel and has taken many an apple cider vinegar bath (sooths sunburn). The picture above is a good illustration of sun bathing gone bad.

But today, I actually look tan. I’ve been “tan” before. I spent a summer in Florida and fit in a Hawaiian vacation during that time (rough life), which culminated in a nice glow. But my natural tan from the sun is more of a red tan. For me, it’s tan. But when I put my arm up to my parents, who, in this instance look like a couple who took in an abandoned albino child, I still look red.

I’ve done the tanning bed thing and HATED it. I come out with a decent color but also with added claustrophobia. A lot of people find tanning beds relaxing and fall asleep. I spend the entire time plotting an escape and checking the timer. Music doesn’t relax me, and there’s no way in hell I’m falling asleep in there. Singing my body and tempting skin cancer is not my idea of relaxation.

So I got a spray tan yesterday. I’m in a wedding next weekend, and the dress is green (a cross between lime and clover), and I would look much better with some color. I wanted to first try a spray tan before doing it the day before the wedding, just in case I had a Ross Gellar episode (“Friends”). Tuesdays are $10 mystic tans at Ultramax, so I gave it a shot.

For those who have never done it, here’s how it works:

-You’re totally naked. My chichis and my cupcake were in on the fun.
-You put this lotion on the palms of your hands and your nails and on the tops of your feet and your toenails.
-You put on a hairnet (I’ll get to this in a bit).
-You walk in the booth and push a button and stand in place. You spread your arms and your fingers, close your eyes, and it sprays your front for about 12 seconds.
-You turn around and it does the same, then you’re done.
-You step out and wipe your hands on one towel and blot yourself with the other.
-You can’t shower for four to six hours afterward.

So I’m standing in the booth, and, to quote Lauren, “feeling like I’m about to be gassed in a concentration camp,” and I realize I forgot to put the hair thing on. Meanwhile, I’ve got my eyes closed and my mouth closed, and I’m not breathing, bordering on hyperventilation.

I rush out and try to blot my hair, which, luckily, was tied in a bun so it really didn’t get anything on there. I raced home and washed my hair in the sink just to make sure I didn’t have a streak of bronze highlights.

I was pretty dark last night and felt disgusting, like I hadn’t showered in a day. Today, I’m a little blotchy at parts but overall, I’m satisfied.