Well, kids, the pool at my apartment complex has been open for two weeks. If you're like me, you probably know how I spell "anxiety attack"... S-U-N-T-A-N.
To say that I'm really white would be an understatement in the same capacity as saying Michael Jackson really likes children. Casper, Frosty, Snow White, Nosferatu ... oh yeah, I've heard them all. With friends like mine, who needs self-esteem?
But now summer is here. Things escalate for my kind in the summer. You see, summertime for pale people is a lot like Thanksgiving break for orphans. We know we're missing out on something special the rest of the year, but now the knife starts twisting because everyone around us is simultaneously enjoying what we don't have: pigment.
And as if this silent internal struggle slowly eroding away at my psyche weren't enough retribution, I've also noticed that the haves like to kick things up a notch when it comes to the mid-summer tormenting of the have-nots. Can someone please explain to me where the psychological impulse comes from that compels a person with a tan to align forearms with someone clearly whiter than Elton John?
I don't know if I can think of anything more positively self-assuring than scrutinizing forearms with a total stranger in public and hearing them blurt out, "Oh my God, you're so pale!" -- as if neither of us knew that going in. Thanks for the diagnosis, Dr. Obvious. You know, when someone is bald, I can tell he's bald from across the room; I don't have to go up to him and rub the top of his head, then rub mine and say, "Oh my God, you're so bald!"
I do anyway, but I don't have to. And they usually respond with something along the lines of "Get away from me, whitey! I'm trying to bowl."
Still, I can't help that I'm so white. It's genetic. My mother is part Irish and my father is part marshmallow. Its kind of hard to work around that DNA, even in the summer. I mean, I've tried everything: sprays, lotions, crayons, you name it. None of them work like they say they will, and even worse, they all taste like crap!
However, one day every summer, I discover that there is something inside of me that is stronger than my DNA, and that is my level of denial. Denial Day comes about once every June. This is the day that I say to myself, "Okay, Lance, don't let the last 22 years of consistent second degree sunburns slow you down. If you remember to take things slow and be careful, you can get a tan this summer."
So, I grab my towel, trunks and sunscreen, and I head to the pool. I warn everybody there to put on their sunglasses, then I take off my shirt and pick up my sunscreen. It's about this time on Denial Day that I remember the only useful thing I have ever actually learned on a Spring Break trip: No one can ever look sexy while holding a bottle of SPF 45 -- even if everyone around him has been drinking all day.
So, I throw away the bottle and stretch out on my towel. Approximately four minutes later it occurs to me that my skin tone has two settings: pale and crispy -- and it only takes three minutes to get to the second setting.
As you've probably guessed, Denial Day is immediately followed by Aloe Day, Sleepless Night, along with the Week of Cold Showers and Incessant Itching and Flaking. Fun stuff, considering that Denial Day this year came Wednesday. The good news is, if I lay half a Hershey bar on my forehead, the whole apartment smells like smores.
Don't forget your sunscreen, kids.
Read More
Three Air Jam teams take home the win
October 12, 2012Nineteen teams shimmied, shook and flipped for a sold out John R. Emens Auditorium on Thursday night during the 25th annual Air Jam.
Bill Clinton Speaks at North Central High School
October 12, 2012Former President's Speech Could Have Effect on State Senate Race
