I pushed the boundaries again today (I know… I’m such a rebel). I deviated from my Hal Higdon plan (on Week 1 – rubbish!) and allocated today as a rest day so that I could do something bordering on girly. I got a spray tan. Now, what you may not know is that I am in fact nigh on albino, with a scary ability to reflect sunlight. My legs require sunglasses to look at them. In fact, much like the sun, you should never look directly at them. We have a wedding to go to this weekend (M’s cousin’s), and I am getting the legs out in honour of the occasion. I very rarely wear dresses, and thought that, in the interests of the health and safety of the wedding party, I really should do something with the colour of them (my legs, that is, not the wedding party). My beauty therapist (and I use beauty in reference to me very very loosely, but therapist sounds… too… well… therapisty) has recently started doing Sienna spray tans. I signed myself up for one, warning her that I did not want to:
- Go Umpa Lumpa orange
- Be a colour resembling mahogany
- Impersonate someone off of The Only Way is Essex/Made In Chelsea/The Valleys (the UK equivalent of Jersey Shore) or something on Snog Marry Avoid
She said she wouldn’t let that happen. Now, I cannot tell you how much I trust this woman – she has seen (and waxed) the unthinkable, and that’s just on me. She has helped me get over my problem of letting other people see my skin (I suffer badly with acne, have had for a long time, and have far too many scars). So when she said she wouldn’t let that happen, I went along with it.
The spraying experience was interesting, and I’m pretty sure some of the poses are there mainly to provide entertainment to the sprayer. Anyway, job done, she warned me that the colour would need to stay on overnight, and was likely to get very dark (oh, and could I let her know in the morning if my armpits were still green, as it would appear the spray may have reacted with my deodorant…). At least my nails are very pretty (she painted them before the tan).
The straw panel’s reaction:
- Plenty of stares on the way back to the car (though that could be a chest bouncing thing, as I have been told I cannot have my straps up on my bra, lest I get the dreaded strap mark);
- M looked, and then said “Oh, is that the lightest they do? You’re a lot darker than I thought you’d be” (cue my whines of “I’m an Umpa Lumpa”)
- The cat thinks I’m marvellous. I must smell fantastic. He’s sniffed all exposed skin, and I’m pretty sure he’d roll on me if I let him, just to coat himself in it all (good job he’s black).
My reaction? It’s not good when the whites of your eyes stand out so starkly. I am
hoping praying that the colour will lessen after my morning shower. If not, I shall be forced to exfoliate to within an inch of my life. Oh, and I must remember to text Sarah whether my armpits are still green.
Back in normal coloured person’s land, my run yesterday went well, the strength session (read: yoga) not so much. Midges are an issue I had not legislated for. I have to admit I’m not much enjoying either a) holding my breath as I run through them, or b) swallowing them. Sadly, I cannot see a way around it other than waving a citronella candle in front of me when I run. That could be possible, as it isn’t like I run fast, so the candle could probably stay alight for the duration. Anyway, I’m pleased with my effort. Friday is meant to be a rest day, with Thursday having been a cross day, but I’m going to have to roll the Thursday session to Saturday, as I’m out tomorrow night with friends.
I’m off to bed now, to sleep through the trauma of my colour developing even more. Le sigh.