The self-tanning incident.

The better part of my morning has been enjoying some pictures from yesterday’s bridal shower – toilet paper wedding dresses, colorful foods, beaming smiles.

You know what else I noticed?  It’s only August 1st and my legs are already losing their summer tan.  Sounds like I’m going to have to put Brian back to work.

A while back I enlisted my husband to help me apply self-tanner, specifically on my back.  You see, I have a masterpiece tattoo back there.  (No, seriously, it’s won two trophies.)  So the last thing that I want to do is muddle it under some self tanner.  The only problem is that I’d really like to have a nice complexion all around the tattoo.  While I’m capable of slathering the rest of my body in self-tanner, it’s a little tricky avoiding the tattoo.

I yelled from the bathroom, “Briiiiiiii-an!  Can you come help me tan my back?”

Brian came in, “Here give it to me.”

Me, “No, wait!  First, will you goop up my tattoo with regular lotion?”

Brian, “Yeah.”

Me, “…Are you staying inside the lines?”

Brian, “Yes!”  (Then he reached for a washcloth to wipe the edges because that was, in fact, not true.)

Me, “Now, you can’t just spray me with the self-tanner.  You have to know the right way or I’ll get streaky.”

Brian, “I can do this!  I’m a painter!”

“All right,” I quizzed him, “how many inches away do you hold it from my back?”

Brian, “Eight to twelve?”

“SIX.  It’s SIX inches away… And you have to wash your hands right away or your palms will get really dark and funky.”

Brian, “Eh.  My hands are dark anyway.”

I could see that he didn’t have an appropriate, respectful fear of self-tanner.  His nonchalance should have made me nervous.  But I held out hope that this might end well.  I explained that the most even way to apply this was to spray a gentle mist down my back, pendulating back and forth.  Now, this isn’t like air-brush-makeup spray.  Once applied, you have to then rub this spray in.

So there I was, naked in the shower, facing the wall, hoping for the best.  He began to spray.  I have few words to describe just how many self-tanner rules he was breaking in the first five seconds.  What should have felt like a gentle, back-and-forth mist from six inches away felt, instead, like the spray was his eyes and – from three inches away – his ‘eyes’ were reading fine print down my back.

Me, “That’s too much!  That’s too muuuuuuuch!”

Brian, “Man, this stuff looks like dirt!  Your back’s gonna be black!”

Me, “Wax on, wax off!  Wax on , wax oooooooffffffffff!”

I felt utterly helpless.  There was nothing I could do.  While the rubbing in should have felt like the karate kid waxing my back, instead it felt like the pattern a squirrel might run if my dogs were chasing it.  Needless to say we had to wipe down and start all over.  I repeated my lecture and this time Brian made some mental notes.  I have to admit that once he finished round two, my complexion looked mighty nice!

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