I can’t bring myself to believe that in 2010 I’ve managed to make this rookie mistake. I could make come to terms with it if it were in ’90, or even in ’00 when self-tanner first hit the scene, yeah, okay, maybe.
But right here, right now? With the number of disasters I’ve seen… This really shouldn’t be possible.

So I was rushing around in my hotel bathroom getting ready to meet up with Scott after a week of skiing. I had gotten a slight tan right on the tip of my nose, a little on my cheeks, but that’s it. Pffff, such a rip-off.

It was right when I was about to put on my body cream that I saw it. There it was, that sinister little tan-in-a-tube that made it’s way into my toiletries bag because I decided I needed to get back from Aspen with a killer-bod. (I was thinking that the combination of snowboard runs, trips to the sauna, some fresh air and some discrete tanning would do the trick.) (In the end, I combined snowboard runs with ribs from the Hickory House and who-knows-what cocktail came my way)(And quite a few came my way)(And then I forgot to get that tan) —> Fuggeddaboud the killer bod.

So I see the tube, I grab it, I read the whole thing and right there, “NO STREAKS!”

LIFE IS TOOO COOOOL!

Man, sunless tanner sure has evolved. It already makes you less orange, but now on top of that, no more streaks? SWEET. Okay bam. I apply it like a crazy woman and then off I go.

—–

A few hours later, I’m at a super important client’s office in a really bright room with a view of all the rooftops in Manhattan. So classy. Around the table, some of the creative-team, and really important people that are all really well dressed. I roll my sleeves up to try to keep my composure.

And then I see it. Oh my god. MY ARMS!!! What is that… Aaaaah! Looks like a marble cake.

Sunless tanner. Shiiiiiiiit.

Right away, I put my sleeves back down, and then as discretely as I possibly can because I’m basically the center of attention, I take a quick look at my ankles.

Nooooo! Shiiiiiit! It’s like that everywhere!!! My entire body is marbled like some Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Macadamia (Take note of these references, takes a gourmand to come up with those. Can’t fake that.)

I smile big and hope to god that no one sees my disaster.

(And after, I WRITE ABOUT IT ALL OVER MY BLOG, of course. How shizo can you get? I ask you that. That said, it’s totally better in words than in life!)

———
That night, I had dinner with my sister who’s in New York. I showed her what was going on and she craaaaacks up laughing.
She says to me, “Put on some bleach, otherwise it’ll totally last forever!!!”

Yeah. Totally.

Et voilà. That was yesterday. I would never put bleach on my skin, my little sister is out of her mind. But I can’t say much, it runs in the family. Give me some reassurance, am I the last person on earth to be completely had by self-tanner?

Translation: Tim Sullivan