Sun Damaged

Fun-loving, yes. Sun-loving? Not so much.
Is there anyone out there who still purposefully tries to get some sun? Actually, yes.

My gay landlord loves to drive through smoggy Los Angeles with his top down on his Saab(pronounced Shaab by him). He always comments about what a beautiful day it is when it's 15 degrees above normal for winter in L.A. Lucky for him, there's plenty more of where that comes from.
My friend in Atlanta, the Roach, loves to sun herself and her double-Ds in a halter top, a ciggy dangling out of her mouth- just soaking up those rays. The rays from Florida are preferable. Are implants made to withstand such heat? She had them installed before global warming.

For me and my pale cohorts, if given the chance, we head for the great indoors between the hours of 10:00 AM and 3:00 PM. At an outdoor party, you can find me so far under that umbrella sun shade, that you'd think I was pole-dancing. Even a glare off of the swimming pool gets me running.
I was in denial about my paleness for about the first 16 years of my life. I would lay out with oil, lather on coconut scented Coppertone, go sailing, skiing, and hang out with people who had good tans, in hopes that it would spread like a virus. After an entire season of hard work, I'd have a mild tan the color of a pale birthmark, loads of freckles and other sun damage waiting to reveal itself over the course of the next 60 years or so. Can't wait to see what unfolds. And what summer would be complete without days in bed with a fever from a sizzling sunburn: the kind where it hurts too much to wear shoes or sit on a toilet? I was faithful to the cause and would keep going back for more, believing that the cumulative attempts at tanning would eventually get me looking smooth and brown-ish. It didn't work, but you have to admire my persistence.
Back in the mid-80s, the entire first day at school was spent checking out all of the tans on the good-looking kids.
I was fucked. In fact, not only did kids use me as a means to compare how tall they had gotten over the summer, but also as a tan-o-meter(?). Kids would stop me, brandish their cigar-colored forearm, and expect me to line mine up next to theirs. I guess they were looking for that chocolate and vanilla effect. Looking back, I gave these other rich, preppy kids real joy; they could rely on me returning to school shorter and paler than them each and every year. I still haven't been thanked.
Now, think about the people who actually live in the desert. And I'm not talking about nut jobs in Arizona. Real desert dwellers are smartly covered from head to toe in sheets. They know that life is long, and sunburns suck. I couldn't agree more. I'm aiming for a society that's dressed in Vietnamese rice-paddy hats and long-sleeved white gowns. We need to pass some legislation which mandates that all daytime outdoor parties take place under substantial awnings. I know what you're saying, "Why doesn't she just wear sunscreen and shut-up?"
Oh, I do. In fact, I have a dazzling array of sunscreens with impressive SPF factors. I'm proud to say there isn't one tube that has anything less that a SPF30. Still, I don't put all of my trust in sunscreen, especially since I feel so greasy and sticky once I've topped off all of my pores with it.
I always welcome an overcast day, especially when there is an all-day outdoor event. What a controversial statement...especially when made in front of my fun-loving tanned friends. I feel like Scrooge, at times...lately, more often than not. A few years ago at the Jazz Fest in New Orleans(one of those all-day events), Steven, Blake, Stinky, Jayne, and I were enjoying ourselves in the cloudy shade provided by mother nature. We felt safe under the dark purple pre-storm sky, especially Steven and I since we're white as flour tortillas. We could really relax without all of the squinting and fear of those stinging UV rays. All of the sudden, a complete reversal of fortune: the sun emerged! No words needed to be spoken. I immediately grabbed a tube of SPF55 and handed it to Steven. It's that kind of ESP that exists between people of our shade. Whenever I see black people who are especially black, I feel a certain camaraderie with them. You see, we are the extremes on the spectrum of our given color. They must put up with a lot from their light-skinned friends who probably "work" at being light-skinned. Oh, well, this is turning somewhat political, but you catch my drift.
The tide is turning. The movie stars are sporting a reverse tan-line, and now it's finally healthy to be pale. Formerly tan people are coming out against the sun. My mom, along with several other former sun-godesses spend big money at the dermatologist's getting spots removed and testing out the latest retinol product. My mom was on one product called Tazerac which made her sun damage peel off like a leper. We called her "Taz" for a while. I should pitch the idea to Steven's law firm to set up a class-action suit against the suntanning industry. I just found out that it's already in the works.
Skin cancer be damned, tans do still look good. If you have the unfortunate occasion to be in a bathing suit, stay near me and you'll look fine.