In this land of massacres and poverty and a dictatorship masquerading as a democracy, I make a
point to bathe my epidermis in the golden sun for at least one full hour on each side, on top of our picnic table. Until about a week ago when I first started working on my tan I had a pasty white complexion fitting of an undead zombie. Okay maybe it wasn't that white. I don't think I get that white. My ass might be that white because it always is. I remember as a kid my mother used to make me show our neighbors and cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents and the milkman and the paperboy and the UPS delivery guy...
"Just show them Johnny", she would plead.
When I refused she would grab me and pull my shorts down herself, not all the way, but enough for me to be embarassed. So I learned to just pull them down myself because everyone would see my white ass one way or another. She just wanted everyone to see how tan I had gotten that summer. Like it was a source of pride. It told everyone that I was an active child, embracing nature and stealing away a piece of that glorious fireball that stares at us from above. Nowadays, I have to work at that former gloriously rich tan that came to me without thought as a youngster.
And believe me it really is work. My whole day is planned around my tanning schedule. I like to get out there to get things started laying out an hour (1/2 on each side) before heading off to lunch, which is open from 11:30 to 1:30. This way I can hop in the shower before going to lunch. Then I have to just stay out of the sun for awhile and take a nap inside because the sun makes me tired. When I wake up I go to the end then I lay out for another hour. And then, after all this hard work of tanning and eating and sleeping I usually take an ice cold shower. And in this ice cold shower, sometimes, I dream of being under a waterfall. On the occasion that I get the one part of my brain to completely fool the other part of my brain into believing that I am in fact under this waterfall and I can feel the rocks underneath my feet and hear the birds chirping in my ears I feel an utter state of bliss engulf me and I have to smile. It never lasts long but for that brief moment I am not in a desert or on an army base at all. I'm somewhere else. I'm where I belong. It's nice to know that I can go there any time I'd like and I do as often as possible.
point to bathe my epidermis in the golden sun for at least one full hour on each side, on top of our picnic table. Until about a week ago when I first started working on my tan I had a pasty white complexion fitting of an undead zombie. Okay maybe it wasn't that white. I don't think I get that white. My ass might be that white because it always is. I remember as a kid my mother used to make me show our neighbors and cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents and the milkman and the paperboy and the UPS delivery guy...
"Just show them Johnny", she would plead.
When I refused she would grab me and pull my shorts down herself, not all the way, but enough for me to be embarassed. So I learned to just pull them down myself because everyone would see my white ass one way or another. She just wanted everyone to see how tan I had gotten that summer. Like it was a source of pride. It told everyone that I was an active child, embracing nature and stealing away a piece of that glorious fireball that stares at us from above. Nowadays, I have to work at that former gloriously rich tan that came to me without thought as a youngster.
And believe me it really is work. My whole day is planned around my tanning schedule. I like to get out there to get things started laying out an hour (1/2 on each side) before heading off to lunch, which is open from 11:30 to 1:30. This way I can hop in the shower before going to lunch. Then I have to just stay out of the sun for awhile and take a nap inside because the sun makes me tired. When I wake up I go to the end then I lay out for another hour. And then, after all this hard work of tanning and eating and sleeping I usually take an ice cold shower. And in this ice cold shower, sometimes, I dream of being under a waterfall. On the occasion that I get the one part of my brain to completely fool the other part of my brain into believing that I am in fact under this waterfall and I can feel the rocks underneath my feet and hear the birds chirping in my ears I feel an utter state of bliss engulf me and I have to smile. It never lasts long but for that brief moment I am not in a desert or on an army base at all. I'm somewhere else. I'm where I belong. It's nice to know that I can go there any time I'd like and I do as often as possible.
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